Our Legacy 3 - Continuum
by Little Miss Flo
Summary: The next instalment of my 'Our Legacy' series. This is a rewrite of the movie Continuum based on how the events of Our Legacy 1 & 2 will have changed it. Read those stories first, or this won't make any sense. Rating based on the massive emotional whumping Sam gets at the beginning.
1. Chapter 1 - Before the Failsafe

**Our Legacy 3 - Continuum**

 ** _Summary:_** _An alternate version of Stargate Continuum, following the events of my stories 'Our Legacy' and 'Our Legacy 2 – Episode Tags'._ _Read those first, or this won't make sense._ _  
_ ** _Disclaimer:_** _I do not own these characters nor profit from their use - I merely toy with them for my own amusement._

 _ **Author's note 1:**_ _Due to the nature of the story, I have used odd bits and pieces of dialogue and plot from the movie Stargate Continuum. I am not claiming of it as my own._

 _ **Author's note 2:**_ _Be warned, this is pretty dark at first. Sam gets some serious emotional whumping. Hence the 'M' rating. But don't worry, it's Continuum, and I'm not messing with the canon ending – no one will remember a thing at the end after they fix the timeline._

 _ **Author's note 3:**_ _It should also be noted that I am assuming the reader has a basic familiarity with the plotline of the movie Stargate Continuum, and so there are bits of the plotline that I've skipped over without much fanfare, because you already know how it goes._

 _ **Author's note 4:**_ _Sorry for the huge delay between the end of Our Legacy 2 and the start of the promised Our Legacy 3. I hit a bit of a wall with this for a long time, and RL got in the way when I finally managed to buy my first house. Full disclosure – this is not done yet, and I can't guarantee a regular update schedule. I'm putting up everything I've got so far, and more will follow at some point. I'm anticipating no more than 8 chapters in this story, but they'll be long chapters, mostly._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 – Before the Failsafe**

"I'm going."

"You're _not_."

Sam glared at Jack. "It's a simple ceremony hosted by an ally, it's not a 'mission'. And it's a hell of a lot safer than the five months I spent pregnant in Atlantis."

"Atlantis was unavoidable. This, on the other hand …"

"Come on, Jack, it's the last Ba'al!" Sam argued. "It's the culmination of _everything_ I've been fighting for, over the last decade of my life! You can't expect me to miss it!"

"What's so great about seeing the actual extraction ceremony anyway?" Jack asked, raising his arms in a frustrated gesture. "We've got him, the job's done. The ceremony's only a formality."

"It's symbolic." Sam said, in a tone that implied he was being dense. "And if it doesn't mean anything, why are _you_ going?"

"To make absolutely sure they get every last bit of that snake." Jack said. "And I want to see his face when they pin him down and stick a needle in his head."

He said that with a vicious tone that Sam completely understood.

"Well, so do I." Sam said quietly.

He stared at her for a moment and then sighed, exasperated. "Look, obviously, if you really want to go, I can't stop you. I'm just saying, I'm not happy with you stepping through that gate when you're 23 weeks pregnant."

Sam folded her arms. "And I'm just saying, I'm perfectly safe on the Tok'ra home-world. I'm going."

* * *

The Tok'ra had invited Jack, Daniel, Teal'c, Mitchell, Vala and Sam. Only Vala elected to stay behind, as she was still nursing baby Serena. She would take care of Beth for the day as well.

On the day of the ceremony, Daniel, Teal'c and Mitchell, as the active SG-1 team members, geared up as they usually would for a mission, complete with backpacks, tac vests and weapons. Sam and Jack, who weren't on active duty and who for the purpose of this outing were effectively non-combatant consultants, were outfitted accordingly, in the same desert-camo BDUs as the other three, but without the gear, save for a zat each in a thigh holster. It was a simple Tok'ra ceremony after all, and there had even been a discussion of wearing Air Force dress blues – with a suit for Daniel and robes for Teal'c – without any standard mission gear at all, but the idea had been nixed only in deference to the long, sandy walk from the stargate to the pyramid.

When they entered the second hour of Tok'ra ceremonial chanting, Sam was starting to have second thoughts about the wisdom of her decision to come along. She knew the Tok'ra didn't often get confronted with the reality of the needs of a pregnant woman, but honestly, she could really use a bathroom break, and a chair to sit on.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and Jack gave her a sidelong look.

"You doing alright?" He asked.

"I'm fine." She said. She was uncomfortable, yes, but she was still a way off from wanting to make an issue of it. She was a Carter after all.

Of course, her pride could only keep her going for so long. At the end of the second hour, she was pretty sure if she didn't sit down she would fall down. As discreetly as possible, she backed up to the wall, and slid down to sit on the floor.

"Carter?" Jack looked at her with concern.

"Just need to sit for a minute." She said, resting a hand over the baby.

Jack shook his head. "Stay put down there. We don't know how long this is going to take."

"It shouldn't be too much longer." Daniel offered softly. "The crimes they're listing are starting to sound familiar."

"Crimes? That's what they've been crooning about?" Jack said incredulously.

"Quite the ditty, ain't it?" Mitchell said drily.

Jack let out a discontented huff as he looked down at Sam. "You need anything? Water? Something to eat?"

She wanted to say no, and insist she was fine, but honestly, she was feeling a little faint, and she did have an unfortunate history of low blood pressure in recent months.

Jack correctly interpreted her silence, and signalled to Mitchell, who was carrying the lion's share of their emergency rations. The Colonel tossed over a water canteen and a power bar, and Jack handed them down to Sam.

"Thanks." She said, feeling embarrassed at her body's lack of stamina in her current condition. Still, fifteen minutes later, she was feeling quite a bit better for the seat and the food and water.

Three hours after it began, the Tok'ra chanting finally came to an abrupt end, and Sam regained her feet as Ba'al was awoken. Ba'al's bluster and cryptic warnings of retribution were far from unexpected, and nor were the snide comments he made about Sam's obvious pregnancy.

What _was_ unexpected however, was the sudden disappearance of Teal'c, along with increasing numbers of Tok'ra around the room.

Panic set in.

Jack launched himself at Ba'al.

"What did you do!?" Jack demanded, and seized the goa'uld by the front of his shirt.

Sam saw Ba'al's arm rise as if in slow motion, the blade appearing from nowhere and plunging down into Jack's chest. She watched in horror as her husband dropped to the ground.

"Jack!" She yelled, and flew to his side as Cameron opened fire on Ba'al, riddling the goa'uld with bullets until he was unmistakeably dead.

She stared at the wound in Jack's chest, frozen with terror and disbelief. There was nothing to be done. Ba'al's aim had been true.

"Jack!" Daniel said, dropping to his knees beside Sam.

"Go to the gate." Jack croaked weakly.

"Not without you." Sam insisted.

He looked at her, pleadingly. "Go."

And then, he was just … gone.

 _No. No!_

"Jack!" Sam sobbed.

"Alright, you heard the man, let's go!" Cameron snapped into action, seizing Daniel by the back of his tac vest and hauling him up.

Sam was frozen in place.

"Carter!" Cam barked, pulling her forcibly to her feet and propelling her away from Jack's body.

She barely remembered the run to the gate, putting one foot after another with Cam's arm around her waist to help her keep up. Daniel dialled in a hurry, speeding further at Cam's bark of 'Jackson!' when the Tok'ra city itself started to vanish.

They ran for the event horizon, and the guys pushed Sam through ahead of them.

The trip through the wormhole felt _wrong_.


	2. Chapter 2 - After the Failsafe

**Chapter 2 – After the Failsafe**

Sam stumbled through the wormhole onto crunchy, slippery ice.

She spun around on the spot, as the guys came through behind her. This was not the SGC. She realised she hadn't paid attention to the address Daniel had dialled. But he would have dialled Earth … wouldn't he?

She wrapped her arms around her belly. It was so cold.

And Jack was dead.

 _Everything_ was wrong. He shouldn't be dead. She'd seen a photo in Beth's house in 2034 of Jack and the kids as teenagers. There was no way he should be dead in 2008.

But she had just seen, with her own eyes, Jack O'Neill bleed out and die on the floor of a Tok'ra pyramid.

"Sam!"

She realised Cameron had been speaking to her, asking what was going on.

"I don't know." She said distractedly.

Cam exchanged a concerned look with Daniel, and then manoeuvred over to her along the narrow plank they were standing on.

"Look, I know what happened back there, but we need you in the here and now, wherever and whenever that is." He said.

She took a second to clear her head. He was right, they needed to find out where they were, so they could get back home. And they had to do it fast – it was so cold.

"Right." She said. "Daniel, I need … in your pack ..."

"Oh! Yeah, hang on." Daniel unclipped his pack and rooted around in it, before producing the environmental sensor and handing it over.

"Ok." She shivered. "Looks like the active gate warmed things up for a bit."

Daniel shone his torch at her, peering disbelievingly. "Warmed things _up_?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Cos the temperature's falling again. It's just gone past minus twenty."

"Ok, that's chilly. Let's not just stand around." Cameron said.

They fanned out, trying to figure out where they were and what had happened. Daniel had just discovered that they were aboard the Achilles, the ship that had brought the stargate from Africa to America in 1939, when Sam's sensor beeped. Her heart lurched at the read-out.

Minus forty. Even if, miraculously, they didn't die here, the baby …

Cameron ordered them to action. He had Daniel hold Sam to share body heat, while he tried to bust their way out with C4. The explosion succeeded in warming things up a little again, and blew a hole in the ice to the world outside, but the ship lurched – they were sinking.

Time was short, so Daniel left Sam to help Cameron search for foul weather gear. In his haste, Daniel's foot went through the deck into frigid Arctic water. When the foul weather gear was found, Cameron helped Sam into hers, and they rushed for the dubious safety of the outside world.

Within a handful of minutes, Cameron was once again pulling Sam away from the prone form of a man she couldn't bear to lose. They had to move, and find help … and without the use of his leg, Daniel couldn't follow.

* * *

Sam walked until she simply couldn't anymore.

She dropped to her knees on the ice.

"Sam! Come on, we gotta keep moving." Cameron said, hooking his hand under her arm to try and help her back up.

"I can't." She said breathlessly. "I'm sorry, Cam, I just can't."

He sighed. "Sam, if you stop moving, the cold will kill you."

"I don't care." Sam said, and meant it. She'd already lost everything. Jack had been killed right before her eyes. There was no way the baby could survive this cold. And if her theory about Ba'al having gone back in time to the Achilles in 1939 was right – and she was certain that it was – then the timeline had been altered and she didn't even have a daughter to get home to anymore. Daniel was most likely long dead back there with the ship, and she and Cam wouldn't last the next twenty-four hours, if that. There was nothing left.

"Well _I_ do." Cam said, emotion making his voice thick, and hauled her bodily to her feet. "You're moving, even if I have to drag you along."

Apparently her apathy even extended to a reluctance to argue the point, and so she stumbled after him automatically for another klick or so, until her body was drained of all reserves.

Then she fell, and the world went black.

* * *

Someone was stroking her hair.

Sam opened her eyes and struggled, somewhat startled to still be alive, and to be warm and dry in a bed. Hadn't she just been about to die out on the ice at the North Pole?

"Easy, easy. You've been asleep for quite a while." Cameron said, pushing her back down into the pillow gently but firmly. It looked like an infirmary, but the room was tiny, wood-panelled with a low ceiling and everything around her built and fitted in a careful, efficient miniature.

"We're on a sub." Cameron explained. "A few minutes after you passed out we were found by a rescue party – the Achilles going down attracted their attention, and then they heard my radio signal and traced it to us. They actually rescued Daniel first, he's here too."

"Daniel's alive?"

"Yeah." Cam looked pained. "He's going to lose that leg, though."

 _Oh God._

Sam closed her eyes, trying to wrap her brain around what would happen next. Being rescued was … unexpected. Once she'd realised what Ba'al had done and where they were, she'd written herself off as dead.

She tentatively and fearfully sent her hands questing over her baby bump. It was still there, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

She looked at Cam. He looked upset, and wasn't meeting her eye.

"My baby's dead, isn't he?" She whispered.

For the longest moment he didn't answer, and then he looked at her with his blue eyes full of tears.

"I'm so sorry Sam."

She turned her head away, closed her eyes, and didn't move until consciousness slipped blessedly away again.

* * *

Jack O'Neill was the last person Sam expected to bring in her dinner, the next time she awoke. She gave serious thought to the possibility that she had completely lost it, and was hallucinating.

"Grub's up. The Navy's finest." He said, depositing a tray on the surface to her right.

" _Jack_?" She breathed.

He raised an eyebrow at her with a chilling lack of familiarity. "That's _Colonel O'Neill_ to you. Although according to your friends, the three of you know an 'alternate timeline' version of me where I'm some kind of sci-fi action hero. Is that a theory you subscribe to as well?"

She stared at him. "It's the truth."

He made a gruff sound, and then looked distinctly uncomfortable when his eyes flickered to her mid-section.

"We'll make port later today. Get you folks transferred to a hospital. A _secure_ one, mind."

"Did they tell you that it's yours?" She was mostly just wondering aloud.

"What?" He looked startled and confused.

"The baby. It was …" She drew in a shaky breath. "In my timeline, you and I are – were – married."

He gave her an incredulous look, like she'd lost her mind. Maybe she had.

"Eat the food. You'll need your strength."

He left the room.

* * *

Back on dry land, Sam and Daniel both lost a part of themselves. Daniel's lower leg was amputated. The doctors induced pre-term labour in Sam, and as Cam held her and murmured encouragement in her ear, she gave birth to her stillborn son.

* * *

As soon as Sam and Daniel were well enough to be up and around, the interviews began. Days and days of frustrating, circular conversations, explaining over and over who they were, and where they came from, and why it was so important that they be allowed to go through the stargate and find a way to go back in time and fix what Ba'al had broken.

Sam had seized on the theme with a vengeance. After several days in that hospital, sunk in a nigh-impenetrable fog of depression, she had realised something important.

She was still alive, and while that held true, she could still go back and fix this. She could make it so none of this ever happened, just as another iteration of herself had, in another doomed timeline, after fifty years spent trapped on the Odyssey. If it took her another set of fifty years, then so be it.

The future she saw in 2034 could still happen.

* * *

Sam had thought they were finally getting somewhere when she was escorted to the aircraft hangar to meet with General Landry. Cam and Daniel were already seated at the table in the centre of the gigantic empty space when she walked in. She hadn't seen them, other than a brief glimpse of Daniel as she'd passed his interview room, since they'd left the hospital several days ago.

"Hey." Cam said, standing and giving her a gentle hug. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." Sam said in a clipped, emotionless voice. "What about you two?"

She looked mainly at Daniel. He shrugged with a wry smile. "I've had lots of fun talking to a brick wall."

"Well, hopefully that's about to change." Cam said. "General Landry's here."

"Yeah, they told me." Sam said, sitting down at the table with careful movements. "Do you think he'll listen?"

"Let's hope." He said with a tight smile.

Of course, while Landry certainly appeared to have at least paid attention to what they'd been saying for the last few days, he didn't quite have the reaction they'd been hoping for. He, along with everyone else in this altered timeline, was quite understandably attached to the status quo. Without evidence of an imminent threat … there was really nothing they could possibly say to change his mind.

And then he dropped the bomb about their futures. Separation, and living out the rest of their lives in isolation on what amounted to an Air Force pension.

Sam felt the bottom dropping out of her world again.

When Landry had left, Sam let her head fall into her hands. Cam shifted his chair closer, and tugged her into an awkward sideways hug. Daniel wheeled around to her other side and put an arm across her knees, and she dropped a hand to take hold of one of his.

No one spoke. They were all equally screwed.

* * *

Saying goodbye would have been awful, if it had been allowed to happen. They hadn't known it, but they wouldn't see each other again after leaving that hangar.

Sam's memory of the journey that followed was foggy and muddled. She remembered a plane, and an empty bus, and a long, long list of rules, that all seemed to begin with 'You may not …'

Luckily her government handler had left her the list of restrictions, as she certainly hadn't retained most of them. The ones forbidding her from pursuing any work in any field even remotely related to the stargate program had stung.

Her new apartment, in a small city that she'd never heard of before now, was stocked with basic furniture, and she had a small grant to buy herself a wardrobe's worth of clothing. The 'vehicle' they had promised her, turned out to be a ten year old Ford Fiesta.

She had been issued a pair of thick-framed glasses, in an attempt to disguise the features she shared with this timeline's Samantha Carter, the infamous dead astronaut.

Her new name was Alexandra Taylor. And she was alone.


	3. Chapter 3 - Fall

**Chapter 3 – Fall**

 _You may not seek employment in any of the following fields …_

* * *

For the first month, Sam lived as a ghost. She did the bare minimum to keep herself alive and functioning. She ate a little, she slept a lot. She went online and ordered a treadmill, and worked out daily until an approximation of her pre-pregnancy figure began to reappear. She had her groceries delivered, and her skin became ever paler shades of white as she hid away from the world in her apartment.

And all the while, she tried not to let the crushing depression kill her.

Ironically, it was pouring with rain on the day that the fog of her grief started to lift. She woke one morning, and felt an unexpected and overwhelming desire to get out of the apartment. She didn't even care where she would go, she just wanted to be outside.

She showered, dressed, put on a hint of make-up, and tied her hair back into a ponytail. Then she went down to the parking lot, the hood of her raincoat pulled up over her head in protection against the pounding rain.

Her fingers were quickly soaked as she fumbled the key in the lock of the car door – no central locking. Inside the vehicle, the windscreen fogged up with her breath. She tried the ignition.

The car wouldn't start.

"Perfect." She muttered, letting her head fall back against the seat.

She sighed and got back out of the car into the rain. She had half a mind to say 'screw it' and go back to bed, but she wasn't quite ready to give up on the lighter mood she'd woken up with. She popped the hood, and investigated the engine.

It wasn't hard to spot the problem. She could have fixed it in the space of an hour in her palatial garage back home. Not that this absurd excuse for a car would ever have gotten anywhere near her own garage. Unfortunately, however, she didn't even have a toolbox to her name in this messed up new world order.

Hell, she didn't even have her own god damn name anymore.

She shut the hood, and stared out at the rain-hammered street. This was a little metropolis. There _would_ be a car mechanic's garage stuffed chock-full of the necessary equipment around here somewhere.

Sam went back inside, and turned on her computer – which was almost as dated as the car – and did a quick internet search for a mechanic. There was one just three blocks away. She could walk there.

Well, that was as good a way to spend the day as any.

She pulled her raincoat back on, and made the short walk to the mechanic's shop.

The sign at the front of the building declared the name 'Hank's Garage' in faded turquoise lettering on a white background. The big garage doors were open, but there were only a couple of cars in the lot out front, and she couldn't see any activity inside. Maybe business was quiet enough that they wouldn't mind her renting out some space and tools to fix her decrepit Ford.

She pulled open the door of the reception area, and took off her soaked coat, shaking it out a little in the doorway so she wouldn't drip all over the floor.

She looked up and realised there was no one in the room.

Sighing, she hung her coat on one of the hooks, and headed for the door that connected reception with the garage-proper.

"Hello?" She called. "Anyone here?"

"Hey!" A disembodied male voice called to her. "Just a minute."

She obediently stood and waited, just inside the door, and after a moment a man who had obviously been underneath the body of the blue mustang a couple of bays over suddenly rose up from behind it.

He was middle-aged, balding, and slightly over-weight. He looked at her with an open and friendly expression. "You need your car fixing?" He asked.

"Yeah. Actually I was hoping you might let me fix it myself. I'll pay full price." She added quickly at his reluctant expression. "I just … I don't have the equipment at home."

 _Well_ , she qualified in her head, _actually I do have the equipment at home, but 'home' isn't somewhere I'm ever likely to be again._

"You know what you're doing?" He asked, giving her a doubtful expression.

"There's a build up of corrosion at the battery terminals, and I suspect the solenoid in the starter is dead. I figure I'll start by cleaning off the battery with a wire brush and replace the starter, and go from there." She gave him a wry smile at his surprised expression. "I've fixed things a hell of a lot more complex than a Ford Fiesta, trust me."

He huffed, and wrung his hands a little. "Be that as it may, strictly speaking I shouldn't let you use my equipment. I could end up with a law suit on my hands."

Sam rolled her eyes and shrugged. "So, have me sign a waiver, or hire me for the time and just charge my wages back to my bill as labour costs." She sighed and gave him a pleading look, trying not to sound as pathetic as she felt. "Please. I really need to fix something for myself."

He chuckled and relented. "Fine. It's not like I'm hurting for space around here anyway." He said, gesturing at the mostly empty garage.

He strode past her into the reception area, and then paused and looked back at her with a contemplative expression.

"Don't suppose you're looking for work, are you?"

She blinked. She hadn't been, but that was because she'd been lost in a quagmire of depression for the last month. Just getting out of bed in the morning had been enough of a challenge.

Now, though, the prospect of having something to do with her time sounded appealing.

"Are you offering?" She asked.

He bit his lip and squinted. "Tell you what. Bring your car in and show me what you can do with it. If I think you've got what it takes, the job's yours."

"As a mechanic? Here?"

"You might have noticed I'm a little short-handed." He said wryly. "I'm Hank."

"Like the sign out front." Sam guessed. "I'm … Alex. Alexandra Taylor."

* * *

 _You may not accept employment at any company or organisation with more than ten employees, without prior permission. You may not accept employment in a customer-facing position. You must report any new employment or occupation to your handler in order that appropriate background checks can be carried out._

* * *

It seemed ridiculous to call for a tow truck just to drag the wretched car the three blocks to Hank's garage, and so Sam convinced the middle aged mechanic to give her a tow himself.

Getting her hands dirty, elbows deep in the car, wrapping her brain around a simple mechanical problem, was the most fun she'd had since landing in this screwed up timeline. As Hank kept looking up at her and chuckling, she thought it probably showed.

She discarded the glasses at some point fairly early on in the process, as she wasn't entirely used to them and they kept getting in her way. Luckily Hank didn't seem to note her resemblance to a certain deceased astronaut.

She had to order in some parts, so the car stayed put overnight. The rain hadn't let up all day, but it felt good to get thoroughly soaked on her short walk home. It was cleansing. It made her feel alive.

Her skin crawled a little as she rounded the corner to her apartment building, and she paused, struck by the familiar sensation of being watched. She glanced around, but couldn't see anyone. Feeling unnerved, she fished the thick-framed glasses out of where she'd hung them in the neck of her t-shirt, and put them on like a camouflage. Jack would have thought it was hilarious that she was putting actual faith in the 'Clark Kent' method of disguise. The thought caused a sharp pang of loss, which she promptly shoved aside.

It had been a good day. She wasn't willing to surrender that.

* * *

 _You must make every effort to avoid drawing attention to yourself in public. You must wear the eyewear issued to you by your handler at all times when in public places._

* * *

Hank gave her the job. Alex Taylor was now officially employed as a mechanic at Hank's Garage. Sam didn't care about the extra money so much as the work itself. It kept her pleasantly occupied, in a way that she found helpful as she began to emerge from the black cloud of her grief. Hank was a good man, and he seemed to sense that she had a difficult past that she didn't like to talk about. As long as she turned up on time and did the work he assigned her, he didn't ask questions.

That was more than could be said for her handler. Lt. Commander Wayne Jefferson was a deeply annoying individual, to whom Sam was required to report on matters of employment.

It took some convincing to get the naval officer to accept that working out back in the workshop of Hank's Garage was not a 'customer-facing' role. She understood the government's desire to keep her face hidden from the public at large, but still, the extreme limitations to her freedom were suffocating.

An official request to be allowed to visit, or even have a phone call, with Daniel and Cameron, was denied by the heinous Jefferson (or perhaps his superiors). She wondered how they were getting on. Had they settled into their new lives? Had they found occupations to stop themselves from going crazy? She wondered what fields they had been banned from entering. Certainly law enforcement and anything related to the military, and in Daniel's case anything academic, but she hoped they'd found something absorbing enough to distract them, as she had. Of course, neither of them needed to worry about being recognised in public, which she supposed might make the restrictions a little lighter.

She started getting used to the glasses. They reminded her of Daniel.

* * *

 _You may not attempt to make contact with Mr Mitchell or Mr Jackson_.

* * *

"Oh my God!"

At the startled exclamation, Sam looked up from her basket of groceries, and met the disbelieving gaze of a red-haired man in his twenties.

"Oh my God, it's _you_! You're Samantha Carter!"

 _Crap._ "I'm sorry, you've got me mistaken for someone else." She said with a tight smile, and turned away, fingering her thick-rimmed glasses.

"No, no, I'd know your face anywhere, I'm … well ..." he laughed nervously, "I was your biggest fan. Randall Wigmore. I got into astronomy because of you."

Sam sighed. _Great._ "I'm sorry, but you're mistaken. I'm a lookalike, I used to get hired for sketch shows to impersonate her. She's dead. My name is Alex."

The young man scoffed. "Please, don't feed me that line. I know it's you. Her body was never recovered. What did they do, fake your death and recruit you to work in some top secret black ops military space program?"

Sam rolled her eyes and resisted the temptation to laugh. "I'm not her. If I was, do you really think I'd be buying groceries in the middle of the day in _this_ town? Please leave me alone."

She stalked away, and mercifully the red-haired man did not follow.

But, she spent the rest of the day with the acute prickly sensation that she was being watched.

* * *

 _If you are recognised, you must report the incident immediately to your handler._

* * *

That was not the last time she would see Randall Wigmore. He pounced on her when she bought groceries in that store again the following week.

"So I've been thinking a lot about it." He said, keeping up as she veered away from him down an aisle in the store. "And I realise you're probably on some sort of super secret 'deep cover' op, and I want you to know you can trust me. I won't blow your cover. In fact, I'd like to help, if I can. I'll be your assistant, or I'll help keep a lookout. Anything you need."

"Have you been casing this store, waiting for me to show up again?" Sam demanded irritably, giving up on trying to lose him in the aisles and turning to face him.

"Well I didn't know how else to find you again." He said, as if it was perfectly reasonable. "Maybe I could get your number?"

"No." She said shortly. "I told you, my name is Alex. I'm not an astronaut, and I never have been. I'm a mechanic. Leave me alone."

She walked away, leaving him standing in the aisle staring after her.

"I thought you said you were an impersonator for a sketch show." He called after her.

Sam paused, cursing herself for the tactical error of revealing her current profession, but then kept walking.

Outside, she sat in her car and waited, watching, until she saw Randall leave the store and drive away. The feeling of being watched and followed came back though, and didn't let up until she locked and bolted the front door of her apartment.

Two days later, he showed up at Hank's. She could have kicked herself. If only she hadn't said she was a mechanic.

"Hi Samantha." Randall said, leaning on the hood of the car she was working on.

Sam stared at him in disbelief. "You do realise that what you're doing now is _stalking_ me."

"What will it take for you to trust me?" Randall asked. "I told you, I'll be your Boy Friday, anything you need, just let me help out."

"My name is _Alex_." She ground out. "I work here. And if I ever see you again, I'm calling the cops."

"Everything alright Alex?" Hank called from across the room.

"It's fine." She called back. "This guy has the wrong address. He was just leaving."

"You're making a big mistake." Randall said, looking agitated. "Please, Samantha, let me …"

"Stop … calling me … Samantha." Sam hissed angrily. She seized him by the arm and hauled him towards the exit. "Go away, and don't _ever_ come here again."

He looked at her with a desperate expression for a moment, and then reluctantly walked away, disappearing down the street.

Sam stood watching him go, breathing hard with her heart pounding, and almost jumped out of her skin when Hank's hand touched her elbow.

"You ok sweetheart?" He asked gently.

"I'm fine."

"That guy didn't just have the wrong address, did he?"

"He's got me mistaken for someone else and he won't let it go."

"Let me guess, that famous astronaut from a while back?"

Sam looked at him, startled. She hadn't thought Hank had made the connection.

"There's a pretty uncanny resemblance, you've got to admit." He said, chuckling at her expression.

 _No, no, not you too …_

She was just starting to really like this job. It was quiet, and absorbing. It was hours and hours every day when she could stop herself from thinking about Jack, and Beth, and Jake.

"Sweetheart, relax, I'm not accusing you of anything." Hank said, his expression growing concerned when she still didn't speak.

She shook herself and blew out a nervous breath. "I know, it's just … I get bothered a lot by people who think I'm her. Conspiracy theorists."

"Like that guy just now?"

"Yeah."

"You know, I never asked about your life before you turned up that day in the rain. And I'm not going to now." He assured her when she blanched. "I figure you've had a tough life and don't want to talk about it, and that's fine, as long as you keep turning up and being the best employee I've ever had, I don't care. But you should know, if you ever want to talk … well, I know how to keep my mouth shut, and I take care of my own."

Sam smiled a little. "I'm one of 'your own' now?"

He chuckled, and patted her shoulder. "Yeah Alex, you are. Now get back to work, I need that Chevy by four."

"Yes boss." She gave him a sloppy salute without thinking, and then froze. He just smiled and walked away, mercifully not reading anything into the military gesture. Sam let out a deep breath, and with a last glance down the road in the direction Randall had gone, she turned back to the car.

* * *

 _You may not frequent popular establishments such as bars, restaurants, diners, cafes, clubs, etc. If you need to visit such an establishment on more than one occasion in a four week period, you must obtain authorisation from your handler._

* * *

"Huh."

Sam sat back in her chair, the list of rules and restrictions open in her lap. She couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to her before, but they must be having her followed, and there were probably secret cameras or monitoring devices in her apartment. Her computer was almost certainly hacked and monitored.

How else would they know if she broke any of these rules?

The sensation of being watched, or followed, had been with her for weeks before she'd been spotted by Randall; in fact it had been with her since she first ventured out of her apartment building to Hank's on that fateful rainy day. She realised they must have an agent on her, someone monitoring her activities, where she went, who she talked to, the websites she visited … they were probably opening her mail.

Did that mean they'd take care of her 'Randall' problem if the kid persisted? Or would they blame her, and relocate her? The thought was bothersome – she was becoming comfortable with her routine. That was why she hadn't reported him to Lt. Commander Jefferson, but if they _were_ watching her … maybe they already knew.

Suddenly very conscious of the uncovered window behind her, Sam stood and started casually moving around the apartment, lowering the blinds on each window as she went. Hopefully anyone watching from outside would assume she was closing the blinds for an afternoon nap. Then, windows covered, she scoured the place for bugs.

It was with a twisted sort of satisfaction that she found three – two cameras and a microphone. It wasn't paranoia. They really were watching, and she'd caught them red-handed.

Next she went to work on the computer, and unsurprisingly she turned up a keystroke-tracker virus. They were reading her emails and internet searches.

Not wanting to tip her hand, she took pains to act as though she hadn't noticed the cameras and microphone as she came across them, and did her best to cover her tracks on the computer. She'd leave it all in place, hope they hadn't noticed her afternoon of discovery, and maybe she could find a way to turn it to her advantage down the line.

Sam wandered into her bedroom – no bugs in here, thank God – and flopped onto the bed on her back, staring at the ceiling and thinking. That they had bugged her apartment and hacked her computer wasn't all that surprising, but the feeling of being watched went beyond that – it was a more visceral feeling of human eyes tracking her, and she'd felt it _outside_ the apartment more often than not. The fact that she knew for certain now that the Navy, or the government in general, were spying on her with electronic equipment, just made it all the more plausible that there was an actual person physically tailing her out there in the world.

From now on, she'd be watching for him.

* * *

 _You may not change your place of residence without express permission from your handler. If a change of residence is required, a new approved residence will be provided to you._

* * *

"Harrison. I hear you have news." Lieutenant Commander Wayne Jefferson entered his office and lowered his large frame heavily into his comfortable leather desk chair, waving irritably for the NID agent on the other side of the desk to keep his seat.

"Unfortunately yes, sir. Taylor seems to have picked up a stalker."

Jefferson squinted. "Taylor … that was …?"

"Uh, Samantha Carter, sir. The astronaut."

Jefferson sighed heavily. "Of course. She couldn't just keep her head down and behave herself, could she?" He groused.

Interestingly, Harrison seemed a little taken aback at that. The tall young man leaned forward in his seat, frowning. "In all fairness sir, I don't think this was her fault; she's actually been doing an admirable job of keeping to the restrictions and staying under the radar. This kid just recognised her in a grocery store by chance and won't let it go."

"I guess it was bound to happen eventually." Jefferson allowed. "She's got a pretty recognisable face. Why in God's name the bloody higher-ups thought it was a good idea to situate her in a heavily populated area is beyond me. Shoulda stuck her on a farm in the middle of nowhere, out of sight."

"I think they thought she'd be better off blending in with the crowds, sir, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb in a sparsely populated area where everyone knows everyone else." Harrison offered.

Jefferson grunted. "Well, anyhow. How big of an issue is this stalker?"

"I'm not certain yet." Harrison said, looking uncomfortable. "He's persistent, but at this point it's hard to tell whether he'll be a security risk. I'd like to request clearance to bring him in if he becomes a problem."

"And confirm his suspicions?" Jefferson asked incredulously. "I'd rather relocate the primary if it comes to that."

"Sir, if we do that, the kid could still go to the media."

"If he does, he'll be treated as just another conspiracy theorist."

"Not if he has evidence."

Jefferson looked at the agent sharply, raising his eyebrows. "You think he's gathering evidence?"

"He might be. I haven't witnessed him doing it, but he's an intelligent kid – educated. It would be foolish not to assume he's at least taken some photographs."

Jefferson sighed. "Look, I don't want to bring him in here unless it's absolutely necessary. It's got to be a last resort. See if you can find out what he knows, maybe search his place if you can. Just for the love of God, don't get caught."

"Yes sir." Harrison nodded, and stood, towering over the desk. It made Jefferson itch - the man was unnaturally tall. "Thank you sir."

"Harrison." Jefferson called as the agent reached the door. He waited until the agent had stopped and turned to look at him. "Don't screw it up."

Harrison nodded tightly, and left.

The following morning, having satisfied himself that Alex Taylor was going to stay put at the garage where she worked for the next few hours, NID agent Nate Harrison left his post as her 'tail', to check out her stalker's place of residence.

Randall Wigmore's apartment building was one of the older multi-storey complexes in the downtown area. The security was laughable, no one gave him a second glance, and he let himself into the apartment on the sixth floor with a key he found under the mat.

A quick search of the apartment turned up no shrine to the astronaut Sam Carter, no wall of newspaper cuttings, photographs and conspiracy theories – but he wasn't really expecting that anyway. Things like this rarely manifested the same way as on TV.

Instead, he struck gold on the computer. The kid's web browser had dozens of bookmarked sites about the deceased astronaut, and there was a folder of digital photographs – clearly taken on his cellphone – of 'Alex Taylor'. There was even one of her without her glasses, taken from across the street from the garage.

Nate sat back in the desk chair, staring at the picture. He should have noticed that one being taken. He was supposed to be watching out for exactly this sort of attention being paid to Taylor.

He noticed another folder at the bottom of the group of photos, and opened it. It was a single text document, which he opened and scanned through.

His blood ran cold, and he bolted from the room, swearing a blue streak.

* * *

 _You must without fail follow the orders and instructions of any person who identifies themselves to you as an employee of your handler._

* * *

Sam rolled out from under the Chrysler she was tinkering with, and retied her long blonde ponytail as she sat up.

"Hank?" She called.

"Yeah?" His voice sounded muffled – he was half inside another vehicle on the other side of the garage.

"I'm going out for coffee, you want anything?"

"Double shot cappuccino please, sweetheart." He called back, still absorbed in his task.

She smiled fondly at him, and grabbed her purse and coat. "Coming right up."

Outside it was chilly and damp, so she didn't linger on the short walk to the coffee shop around the corner. Ten minutes later she had Hank's cappuccino in one hand, and she was snatching sips of her black coffee – nowhere near as strong as the stuff she and Daniel used to inhale on long nights in the SGC – which she held in the other, as she walked back to the garage.

The scene she walked into was enough to make her drop both cups to the floor in shock.

Out of reflex she reached for a weapon she didn't have, and when her hands closed around empty air she balled them into fists instead. In front of her in the empty work-bay closest to the reception area, Hank lay prone on the ground, clearly unconscious, while a tall man she'd never seen before held a gun to the head of none other than Randall Wigmore, who was kneeling on the ground.

"Crap." The tall man swore softly on seeing her entrance. "You stay where you are. Don't move." He ordered her, in the calm, commanding tone of a man used to this sort of situation. She'd used that tone herself on more occasions than she could count.

"Who the hell are you?" She demanded.

"I work for Jefferson." He said simply, and then seized Randall by the shoulder. "On your feet, kid." He barked, hauling the red-headed young man upright.

Randall looked queasy, and swayed a little on his feet, avoiding Sam's eye.

"You're the one who's been tailing me." Sam said to the tall stranger.

He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Noticed that, did you?"

"I have some experience with this kind of thing." She looked at Hank, who was just starting to stir. "Is he ok?"

"Got conked on the head. Wigmore here decided he was going to lie in wait in the restroom and attack you when you needed a bathroom break, and poor old Hank had the misfortune to run into him before you did."

"Why would you want to attack me?" Sam asked Randall.

"I wasn't going to hurt you." He protested. "I was just going to make you tell me what's going on."

"Genius plan, kid." The agent laughed. "She'd just have decked you."

"Damn right." Sam muttered. Hank groaned. "Can I move now?" She asked the agent, nodding her head in Hank's direction.

"Go on." He allowed her, and she hurried to Hank's side. "Better call an ambulance for him. I'm gonna secure this idiot, and then meet you at the hospital. _Don't_ get any ideas about running off."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Sam said with a sarcastic smile, fishing out her cellphone to dial 911.

* * *

 _You may, without warning, be relocated if your hander deems it necessary. You may not in any way obstruct any such relocation effort._

* * *

"Kid's a nutter." The agent said, dropping gracelessly into the plastic chair next to Sam in the hospital waiting room. "He won't be bothering you anymore."

"What did you do with him?" Sam asked, fearing the answer.

"Nothing sinister, don't worry."

Sam looked at him askance, trying to decide if that was the truth. He seemed pretty genuine.

"I didn't catch your name." She said eventually.

"I didn't offer it."

When he didn't say anything more, Sam huffed in annoyance. "What should I tell Hank?"

"The truth, after a fashion. Tell him he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that the kid was a stalker who was planning to attack you. Tell him the cops took the kid away."

Sam nodded. Hank would buy that – after all, it was the truth, mostly.

"Am I going to be relocated?"

The agent winced. "I'm hoping not. No one outside of my chain of command knows about this altercation other than the kid Randall, and Hank. Randall's out of the picture now, and if Hank doesn't start asking questions …" He spread his hands expressively and shrugged at her.

"I'd like to stay where I am, if my opinion holds a shred of weight."

"Hey, if it was up to me, I'd leave you be." The agent said. Sam found that she believed him.

"What happens now?"

The agent sighed. "I called Jefferson. He wants a full report _after_ you've had a chat with Hank." He looked her in the eye. "We need to know if your boss is going to cause any problems."

"He won't." Sam assured him. "He told me before that he would keep anything I told him to himself."

"You mean he already has suspicions?"

Sam huffed in annoyance. "You guys really think wearing a pair of glasses actually stops me looking like your dead astronaut version of me, don't you?"

"Maybe if you didn't keep taking them off while you work …"

"They bug me. And anyway, that didn't stop Randall recognising me."

The agent conceded the point with a cant of his head. "Maybe you could dye your hair."

"Maybe you could all just leave me the hell alone." Sam said bitterly.

The agent turned to look at her with kind eyes. "I know something of what you went through." He said after a long moment. "I'm sorry."

"Bite me."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not the enemy."

"Well who is? Jefferson? People like Randall? You wouldn't have this problem if you hadn't sent the three of us into exile like criminals."

"If it was up to me …"

"You'd give me what I want because you're just that nice of a guy, is that it?" Sam snapped. "Don't bother."

The agent sighed and stood up. "Go talk to Hank. I'll be listening in."

He tapped his earpiece, and Sam wondered whether he'd bugged Hank's hospital room, or her. She supposed it didn't really matter.

She went to talk to Hank.

* * *

 _You may not reveal any aspect of your past or origins to any person, at any time, for any reason._

* * *

For the next week, Sam kept the garage open and running on her own, while Hank recovered from the attack. She dropped by his apartment everyday, bringing him food and the paper and a report of the day's activities at the garage. He kept the conversation light and cheerful, for which she was grateful – he knew there was more to the situation than she was saying, but he didn't push her.

Sam caught sight of her tall and supposedly benevolent 'tail' a few times during that week. She wasn't sure if it was because she knew he was there, or if he was letting her see him on purpose, but every now and then she'd stop suddenly and scan her surroundings, and there he would be, leaning against a wall drinking a coffee, or sitting on a bench with a paper. The blatant and shameless way he was continuing to spy on her despite his cover being blown, was annoying, but almost intriguing. Sam found herself taking it as a challenge. Sooner or later, she'd find a way to slip his watchful gaze, and then she'd take great pleasure in watching him flounder for a change.

In the meantime, she had more serious matters to consider. The attack on Hank and the appearance in her everyday life of one of Lt. Commander Jefferson's lackeys, had been a wake up call.

In the aftermath of the depression that had consumed her when she first got deposited in the life of Alexandra Taylor, she had been content to simply live for her work at the garage. However, during that time she had forgotten something important. This wasn't the primary timeline. The primary timeline led to the future she had seen in 2034, with General Samantha Carter and her grown children Beth and Jake. This situation was just another offshoot, like the one that led to Teal'c spending 50 years on the Odyssey. As far as she could tell, nothing she or Jack had done since their trip to 2034 had directly changed the timeline in such a way as to cause Ba'al to take this course of action. She told herself that the fact that she and Jack had seen the future world of 2034 at all, proved that she would succeed in restoring the primary timeline. Which meant, she still could, should, and would, find a way to fix it.

To do that, she first had to find out what was going on. At the moment she was completely cut off from the stargate, and from Daniel and Cameron. Information was power. The best way for her to get information, was by using a skill the Air Force hadn't given her – using a computer to hack into Commander Jefferson and the Navy's systems.

The computer she'd been given for her apartment was out – she had already discovered the several different ways in which it was monitored. She needed a clean machine, free of surveillance.

And she had an idea of where to get one.

* * *

 _You may not undertake any activity which could in any way be construed as undermining the spirit or the letter of the rules and guidelines laid out in this document._

* * *

"Can I assume that you didn't bring me out here to feed the ducks?" Hank asked, pulling the hood of his coat lower over his forehead.

Sam felt guilty for having Hank meet her out here in the pouring rain, but it was the best way to ensure no one overheard their conversation. The rain would mask their voices from any parabolic microphones, and she'd checked them both thoroughly for bugs. The bench they sat on was in the middle of a flat piece of land, where they'd spot anyone trying to sneak up on them long before they got within earshot.

She twisted her upper body to face him on the bench, and he mirrored her.

"I need to ask a favour." Sam said, in a low, serious voice.

Hank regarded her carefully. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not exactly, but … sort of."

Hank raised an eyebrow.

"It's hard to explain." Sam said, with a wince. She sighed – he deserved the truth, and she could at least give him a little of it. "I get the feeling that you've already figured out something of my history."

Hank cleared his throat. "I know you look a heck of a lot like that heroine astronaut Samantha Carter, who supposedly died in a space rocket crash."

Sam nodded. "That's why Randall Wigmore, the kid who attacked you, was stalking me." She confirmed. "He thought I was her."

"Are you?" Hank asked bluntly.

Sam met his eyes and hesitated. "Yes and no." She answered. "It wasn't me in that shuttle, but … my name wasn't always Alex Taylor."

"I didn't think so. You don't always respond when I call you by that name." He gave her a wry smile. "Maybe you'd respond if I called you Sam?"

Sam ducked her head. "Please don't test that theory in front of any customers."

Hank chuckled. "So … what, they never sent you up in that shuttle in the first place? It was someone else in the hot-seat, and when it crashed they had to hide you away? Were they just pretending it was you flying the mission for the publicity or something?"

"I can't get into specifics, but the upshot is that I'm now in something akin to the witness protection program, with a new identity, and I'm being tailed and monitored by a government agent."

Hank looked around the park nervously. "Right now?"

"I've taken pains to make sure he couldn't overhear this conversation, but I expect he knows I'm here on this bench with you, yes."

"Damn, sweetheart." He whistled. "No wonder you're an ace mechanic. I guess a Chevy isn't much of a challenge after literal rocket-science, is it?"

"Not so much, no." Sam grinned ruefully.

"So … what do you need from me?" Hank asked.

"A laptop computer."

* * *

 _You may not independently purchase or otherwise obtain any item of computer equipment, without the permission of your handler. If you require any such equipment, your handler will provide it to you._

* * *

Sam tried unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle as she slurped on a coffee in a paper cup, watching the agent ratchet up to a panic in the middle of the mall. This was just as hilarious as she thought it would be.

She'd given him the slip in the ladies' room, using the fact that he wouldn't follow her in, and since then, she'd tailed him, rather than the other way around, carefully staying out of sight, to see how he'd react. Not well, apparently. She chuckled again.

Deciding it was maybe time to put him out of his misery, she picked up the second coffee, and strode directly towards the agent, where he was leaning against the balcony, scanning the crowds. She kept her gait careful and light, staying out of his peripheral vision, trying to catch him unawares.

"Latte?" She offered him with a charming smile, tamping down the urge to guffaw when he jumped at her sudden reappearance.

"Jesus, where the hell did you come from?" He demanded.

"Not nice having someone spy on you, is it?" She teased, handing over the coffee.

"Seriously, Taylor, don't do that."

"There's nothing in that great tome of rules about not giving you the slip, you know. I checked."

He almost growled at her, taking an injudicious slurp of the hot coffee in indignation.

"We're going to have a conversation about how exactly you managed that."

"Sure we are." Sam scoffed. "How about you buy me lunch and we pretend I didn't just publicly humiliate you?"

He harrumphed, but wordlessly followed her to the nearest sandwich bar, where they bought lunch and found a table in a back corner where they could talk. Sam rolled her eyes and huffed when the agent stopped her with a rough hand on her elbow and pushed her into the seat that faced away from the rest of the bar. He sat opposite in the seat she'd been angling for, with his back to the wall, eyes scanning the crowd behind, no doubt to check no one was paying his charge too much attention.

"You shouldn't even be here, according to that rulebook." He pointed out grumpily. "I'm sure it says something about avoiding crowded places."

"I wanted to see what you'd do." Sam admitted, idly stirring a cup of tea.

"I did consider intercepting you."

"Why didn't you?"

"Maybe I wanted to see what _you'd_ do." He said, a little twinkle in his eye. "You never struck me as the type to wilfully break the rules without a specific purpose in mind."

Sam chuckled. "So we were both just testing each other."

"So it would seem."

She looked at him speculatively under her eyelashes as she took a bite of her lunch. Her first impression of him at the hospital was holding up. He didn't seem like a bad guy, just a man doing his job, following orders. She also got a military – or at least ex-military – vibe from him.

"Did I at least earn your name this time?" She asked.

"Sorry." He gave her a wry smirk.

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"As we're not supposed to actually interact, I wouldn't worry about it."

"We're 'interacting' now, aren't we?"

"Against my better judgement."

Sam sighed. "So you plan to continue spying on me and following me around, and I'm supposed to just pretend I don't know full well that you're doing it? I suppose I should pretend you didn't bug my apartment too?"

He blanched, which made Sam grin – obviously he hadn't realised she knew that.

"It's for your own safety." He said, but his tone lacked conviction.

She cocked her head and studied him. "I don't think you completely believe that."

"It doesn't matter what I believe."

"Because you're just doing your job, right?"

"Right."

Sam chuckled lowly. "And you're a good little soldier who never challenged an order you didn't agree with."

"Give me a break, Taylor, I don't have anywhere close to the clout I'd need to change your situation. The best I can do is follow the letter of my orders and try not to let them screw you over too much."

"Do you even know what this is all about? How much do you know about me?"

"More than you probably think."

Sam raised her eyebrows at him, and he huffed in annoyance, leaning across the table to talk in an undertone.

"I saw all of the tapes of your debriefing, and they briefed me on why you're in the situation you're in now. I also saw your medical records from the Navy hospital."

Sam flinched at the reminder, and looked down at her hands. The agent moved as if to squeeze her hand, but seemed to think better of it and withdrew his hand, aborting the attempt.

"You know," he said in a lighter tone, "all this time travel and alternate timeline stuff is very sci-fi. You're like a real life Marty McFly."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "You dare call me McFly and I'll spend the rest of my life building a Delorean just to send you back to the Cretaceous period."

The agent raised his eyebrows. "You know, that's kind of a scary threat considering that you're probably the most likely person on the planet to know _how_ to build a Delorean."

Sam snorted with laughter. "Please, that thing couldn't possibly work. It's hilarious what tripe they expect you to swallow in the name of entertainment."

"I guess you don't look much like a 'Marty' anyway." He teased.

She looked up at him, and then cocked her head. "Huh."

"What?"

"You kind of do."

"Do what?"

"Look like him. Marty McFly. You've got a hint of Michael J Fox around the eyes." She said in a speculative tone.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

She grinned at him, and he grinned back, and she found she had to admit that she kind of liked him, as a person. In another life, they might have been friends.

"You actually remind me a little of Cam." She admitted in a more serious tone after a moment.

"Cam? You mean Cameron Mitchell, one of the guys you turned up with?"

She nodded. "I don't know what name they've given him now."

The agent twitched a little, and she looked at him sharply.

" _You_ do." She observed.

"I can't tell you."

"Come on McFly, what harm could it do to just tell me what my friends' names are now?"

"I wasn't born yesterday, Taylor, I know exactly what you'd try and do with that information."

"And your job is to stop me from ever seeing my friends again." She said icily.

"My _job_ , is to keep you safe and contained, and to make sure the secret of your origin _stays_ secret. That means no getting together with your buddies and plotting trouble."

"And you really believe that's the right call?"

"We've had this conversation already."

"Yes." Sam sighed. "I suppose we have."

The agent regarded her for a long moment. "If I tell you their first names, will you agree to dye your hair darker so you're less recognisable?"

She rolled her eyes. "No deal."

* * *

 _You may not visit any large public facility such as shopping malls, ticketed events, amusement parks, etc, except where express permission has been given by your handler and appropriate precautions and security measures have been enacted._

* * *

It took weeks of careful, cautious work, but with the laptop she and Hank smuggled into her apartment, Sam found her way into the right servers and started gathering some decidedly close-held information.

First, she found Cam and Daniel. They'd been renamed as Bryan Bennett and Matthew Stephens respectively, and Cam was set up in a sleepy suburb while Daniel had an apartment in a small city, much like Sam herself. The restrictions on their activities and movements were less stringent – as neither was publicly recognisable in the way that Sam herself was – but were still considerable. They would have no more freedom to find each other than Sam had, and they of course didn't have her hacking talents. She wondered if either of them had discovered their 'tails'.

She left some coded messages in the forums the NID – and specifically one Harry Maybourne – had used for secret communication in their original timeline, knowing that Daniel was aware of that old tactic of Maybourne's too, and might be keeping an eye out. She wasn't too hopeful of that however, as it didn't seem that he'd left any messages of his own.

Although they'd failed to find the stargate that had sunk with the Achilles, the Navy had found the secondary stargate in Antarctica, and had been studying it at McMurdo base in Antarctica. It didn't look like they were having much luck, however. Without their version of a 'Daniel' to figure out the glyph system, they were stumped. Sam wasn't sure whether to feel pleased about that or not. On the one hand, it gave her hope that eventually either she or Daniel, or maybe all three of them, would be brought back in to teach the Navy how to use the gate. But on the other hand … Ba'al was out there, and time was of the essence. The sooner teams started going through that gate, the sooner they'd realise how monumentally screwed they all were and hopefully let her fix the damn timeline.

She also kept an eye on the chatter coming from staff at various deep space and closer range observatories. If something nefarious was to turn up in Earth's orbit, she wanted to be among the very first to know about it.

All of this had to be done very carefully, leaving no digital footprint that could be traced back to her, and done at the dead of night in her bedroom when McFly – if he was watching – would assume she was sleeping. Still, the long, sleepless hours and painstaking care were all well worth it in Sam's reckoning.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again.

* * *

 _You may not at any time or for any reason identify yourself as Samantha Carter._


	4. Chapter 4 - Winter

**Chapter 4 - Winter**

A knock at her door made Sam freeze with her hands poised over the laptop keyboard. It was early morning on Thanksgiving, and she was in her bedroom – which she knew was devoid of McFly's surveillance cameras – checking up on the Navy through the taps she'd put in their server. The early hour and holiday had given her an excuse to do this in daylight for once, under the pretence of enjoying a leisurely morning in bed.

She hastily closed down the laptop and shoved it under her pillow, before pulling on a robe and running a brush quickly through her hair.

To her surprise, a quick peek through the apartment's peephole revealed her visitor was none other than McFly himself. A surprise inspection?

Panicking, she ran back into the bedroom and made a more thorough attempt at hiding the laptop. In the end she wrapped it in a jacket and shoved it down the back of her heater, hoping the heat wouldn't kill it before she could get rid of the agent. The knock at the door repeated as she ran silently back to the door, and she flung it open.

"McFly! What a surprise."

"Do you have to call me that?" The tall agent winced.

"Not if you tell me your real name."

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. My first name is Nate. Will you call me Nate?"

"If you'll call me Sam. Or Carter."

"You know I can't do that, Taylor."

"Well, then I guess you'll have to get used to McFly." She smiled sweetly.

He sighed. "Are you going to invite me in?"

"I'm not exactly dressed for company." She pointed out.

"You'll want to hear what I've got to say, trust me."

" _Trust_ you?" Sam repeated incredulously. "Says the guy whose job it is to spy on me."

"Jesus, Taylor, it's Thanksgiving, how about giving me a pass for the day?"

She smirked. "You're in luck, McFly, I'm actually in a good mood today. I'm having dinner with Hank later."

"Then you'll need these." Nate reached into his jacket pocked and pulled out a familiar pair of glasses.

"Oh …" Sam took them guiltily. "Oops?"

"You left them in the garage. Which means you walked all the way home _in public_ without them yesterday. Not to mention that I must have told you a few dozen times not to take them off while you're working."

"I don't take orders from you." Sam reminded him. "You're not even supposed to be talking to me."

"Ah, well, this time I am."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh?"

"You'll like this." He said with a grin, taking a seat at her little dining table. "I am here today to 'officially' offer you the chance to write a letter to your former colleagues, Daniel Jackson and Cameron Mitchell."

Sam sat down heavily opposite him. "You're kidding." She breathed.

"Nope. You write a letter to each of them, give the letters to me, and I'll get them delivered. They'll get thoroughly screened by Lieutenant Commander Jefferson's office of course, so don't bother writing anything specific about your location or put in any clever coded messages."

"I can't believe Jefferson even agreed to it."

"I may have badgered him about it until he agreed just to get me off his back." Nate said, looking uncomfortable with the admission.

Sam gave him a genuine smile. "You did that for me?"

He shrugged. "I figured it's only fair. You've played by their rules for this long."

She got up and gave him a tentative hug. "Thank you."

He gave her a quick squeeze back and then released her. "You know," he said, with a cheeky grin, "if you really want to show your appreciation, you might consider dyeing your hair."

"Holy Hannah, you're like a broken record." Sam exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "I'm grateful, McFly, but I'm not dyeing my god damn hair."

He chuckled. "It was worth a try."

* * *

"So, what are you thankful for?" Hank asked as he put a plate of wonderfully-scented food in front of Sam.

She raised an eyebrow. "We're really going to do that?"

"Come on, it's Thanksgiving. It's tradition."

Sam sighed. "Ok." She thought and then looked at him with a rueful smile. "Honestly, right now, I think I'm most thankful for you. It's really great to have a friend I can talk to."

"Aww, shucks honey. I'm touched."

She chuckled. "Alright, your turn."

"I am thankful for that god awful Chevy being gone from my garage." Hank said emphatically, and Sam laughed out loud.

"Eat up, before it gets cold." Hank encouraged her, taking a big bite out of a parsnip.

"I had no idea you were such an excellent cook." Sam said, smiling at Hank over the perfect roast potato on her fork.

"It's a hobby." Hank shrugged. "My mother ran a small restaurant, way back when."

"You never considered that as a career yourself?"

"Sure, I considered it, but … I dunno, I guess cooking is a talent, but cars are my first love."

"Well, you certainly are talented. I'm a useless cook myself, my husband used to say I could burn water."

She froze, and felt Hank staring at her.

"You were married?" He asked gently.

She put down her fork. Suddenly she wasn't hungry anymore. "Yeah. He's gone now."

"You mean he left, or …?"

"Dead." Sam said shortly. She shook herself and forced herself to resume eating. "I don't like to talk about it."

"Of course, I didn't mean to pry, it's none of my business." Hank said. "I just get curious about you, you know?"

She nodded tightly. After a few minutes, her blood pressure had dropped back to something approaching normal, and she made an effort to re-establish the warm atmosphere.

"What about you?" She asked. "Never married? Had kids?"

"Nah." Hank said. "There was a girl I might have married, once, but … I dunno, it wasn't meant to be, I guess. I've always been a bit of a lone wolf, anyway."

"Is that why you worked at the garage alone for so long?"

"My ex would have said that's because I lack ambition."

"I wasn't asking her." Sam pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smile.

"Ugh, maybe she's right." He said heavily. "Truth is I could have – and should have – hired some more people a long time ago. I've always had a solid client base, I could have expanded, maybe taken over the lot next door and offered some more services. It's just … I like the quiet, and I like the garage the way it is. Don't mess with a good thing, you know?"

"So why did you hire me?" She asked, curious.

He gave her a speculative look. "I think maybe I sensed a kindred spirit. Like, you wanted somewhere quiet and comfortable too. I dunno, I think you just seemed like the kind of person who would improve the feel of the place, rather than making it feel busy and messy the way I always thought employees might, and I was - maybe – pining for company a bit."

Sam gave him a warm smile. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you did it. It was exactly what I needed. Still is, if I'm honest."

"You seem better, lately." He observed.

She looked at him in surprise.

"I mean, you seemed like you were hurting pretty bad when we met, and lately, I dunno you just seem like you're doing better these days."

"I guess I am." She said quietly.

"Well good." He patted her hand quickly with a twinkly-eyed smile, before reaching for the pepper. "Eat up, I made pudding for afters."

* * *

Sam sat with a pen in hand, staring at the blank page. After over three months, she barely knew what to say to Daniel and Cam, or rather, she didn't know where to start. There was so much she wanted to say but couldn't, because she didn't want Jefferson to see it. She considered trying to put in a coded message, but in all honesty any cipher that was simple enough for Daniel or Cam to pick out was bound to be simple enough for the professional cryptographers Jefferson would undoubtedly get to screen the letters, so what was the point in trying?

She'd kept an eye on them, but there had been no hits on the old NID message boards from either of them. She'd hoped that at least Daniel might try, but perhaps he'd figured out that his computer was being monitored, and didn't want to risk it? There was no way of knowing.

That was the point of this, she supposed. At least with these letters, and with her friends' responses, they would all be able to get some sort of a sense about how the others were doing.

With a sigh, she pulled the paper towards her, and started to write.

* * *

 _Dear Daniel,_

 _I can't tell you how much I miss you. I hope you're doing ok. I think of you both every single day._

 _I've been working as a mechanic in a garage near my apartment. The owner, Hank, is a good man, and he took me in a bit like a stray cat, no questions asked. The work has been good for me, it's quiet and absorbing, soothing. I'm thinking of buying a motorcycle with the wages I'm earning, nothing as good as my old Indian of course, but something with a bit of speed that I can fly along a freeway. I miss that._

 _I'm not allowed out in public much, as my face is apparently still fairly recognizable. I hate her a bit for being so famous. They gave me glasses to wear, which remind me of you. They want me to dye my hair. I'm thinking about it, but I don't want to do something like that just because the 'powers that be' ordered it. They've taken enough of me already._

 _A few weeks ago I found a book written by you. I imagine you've seen it. You look different than him – I guess the life we led changed you. I imagine they don't let you work in archaeology or history yourself, now. I'm surprised they even let me work at the garage. I'm not allowed to so much as think about science or engineering or technology. The computer they gave me I swear hails from the early 90s._

 _I hope you're keeping strong. I know it must have been so difficult, dealing with losing Vala, and Serena, and your leg, all alone. Please know that I'm there with you in spirit even though they won't let me be there for you in any other way. I know Cam would say the same. Sometimes it comforts me just to know you two are out there, even if I can't see you. Maybe you feel the same, I don't know. I hope so._

 _They say they'll let you write back. I don't know if that will be before or after you get this. I hope it's after, so it's more of a conversation. I wish we could just talk on the phone. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss a lot of voices, but at least maybe one day I'll hear yours again. They've got to trust us to see each other eventually, right?_

 _I love you Daniel. Stay strong for me._

 _Love Sam_

* * *

The letter to Cameron was easier, if only because Sam wasn't quite as worried for him as she was for Daniel. He hadn't lost as much. She'd seen Daniel go through losing Sha're, and she worried every day that the loss of Vala, Serena and his own limb might be too much for him to bear.

In the parking lot of her apartment building, Sam found McFly leaning against the gate post. He held out a hand without a word, and she gave him the two letters.

"Please make sure these reach them." She asked, eyes pleading.

"You have my word." McFly promised her. He put them in the inside pocked of his jacket. "Come on, I'll walk you to work."

* * *

"What do you think about an apprentice?" Hank asked her out of the blue one morning.

Sam was buried elbow deep in the guts of an old Ford Mustang, and pulled back to raise an eyebrow at him.

"You want an _apprentice_?" She asked incredulously. "What happened to being a lone wolf and not wanting any employees to busy the place up?"

"An apprentice could be different. It won't be busy-making, it'll just be, I dunno, passing on a skill. Like, giving something back for the next generation."

Sam frowned a little in consternation. She found it difficult to seriously contemplate such a prospect when she still had every intention of somehow going back and fixing the timeline. It wouldn't matter what impressionable young lives she influenced in the here and now if she succeeded.

"Feeling your age, Hank?" She teased instead, deflecting.

"Maybe I am." He said. "I'm almost sixty. A guy can get sentimental at that age."

"Well, then, by all means. Go find some young minds to mould." She said dismissively, leaning back over the engine.

"I'm asking because you might want to be involved yourself, if the kid's going to be around a lot …?"

Sam sighed. "Hank, it's your garage. If you want me to help teach a kid to be a mechanic, then that's what I'll do."

"You don't have an opinion either way?" He prodded.

"Not really." She said, not looking up.

He harrumphed a bit, clearly having hoped for a different answer.

"Hank, what do you want me to say?" She asked, a little exasperated.

"I don't know Sam, I just thought the idea might appeal to you a little more, that's all. I was thinking of it as much for your sake as my own."

Sam stood up straight and looked at him carefully. "You shouldn't call me Sam."

"There's no one around." He argued.

"It's not a good habit to get into."

"I'm sorry. I just find it difficult to call you Alex, since you told me that it wasn't your real name. It feels … disingenuous. Anyway, that's not the point."

"Why did you think I'd get excited about taking on an apprentice?" Sam asked.

"You're still young, and you're so … solitary. Hanging around solely with an old git like me ain't good for you."

"I'm not that young. And I'm not sure inflicting the two of us on a kid is necessarily a good idea either." Sam pointed out with a smirk.

"Maybe it'll lighten us up a bit. Keep us young at heart."

Sam shook her head. "Like I said, if you want to do it, that's great. But if you're only doing it for my sake, don't bother. I'm fine with things the way they are."

Hank threw up his hands in exasperation, and stomped off. "Careful, sweetheart, or you'll end up just like me."

"There are worse fates." Sam said softly with a sad smile.

* * *

Two weeks after she'd given her letters to McFly, she got home from the garage to find him waiting outside her apartment.

"Letters from your friends." He said, handing them over.

Sam felt a little breathless, holding them. "Have you read them?" She asked.

"Yes." He said. "You should know, Jackson's almost didn't get authorised. He walked the line of acceptable content a few times."

"That's Daniel for you." She said. "He's never held back before."

"He's hurting, same as you are." He said, which made her heart ache. "It's …"

He cut himself off uncomfortably.

"What?" She asked softly.

"It's not right, what they've done to you." He said earnestly. "I just want you to know that I see that."

He squeezed her hand on his way past her to the door.

* * *

 _Dear Sam,_

 _It's so overwhelmingly wonderful to hear from you._

 _I've been requesting some form of contact practically from the moment they dropped me off at my new apartment, but the answer was always no. I didn't even realise this was coming, and then this morning a government guy in a suit hand delivered it, and said I had two days to write letters of my own to you and Mitchell. Was it you? Did you convince them somehow to let us write each other? I don't even know if they'll let you respond to me again or if this is all we get. As they don't seem to give a shit about our emotional well-being, I'm guessing this is probably it._

 _I want to know more about how you've been, I wish we could talk properly. You barely mentioned how you are emotionally in your letter, and you've lost just as much as me. More, even. You were always the strong one, though. God, it's so unfair, you and I, we needed each other, and the bastards just cut off our only support system. I hate them._

 _I've been a mess, as you probably guessed, but I'm learning to live with it. I won't lie, it's been rough. You're the only thing keeping me going, if I'm honest. I know it'll get easier to live with in time, but some days it's hard to imagine._

 _I've got a job in the local library, and I can get around fairly well now on a prosthetic, with a walking stick, or crutches on a bad day. The doctors say eventually I probably won't even need the stick. I don't care so much about the leg, I miss you guys, I miss Vala and my beautiful little girl. I miss everyone._

 _I figure Mitchell will either have gone all dark side and brooding, and will end up getting himself killed or getting locked up for taking some insane risk or breaking the rules, or he'll be Mr Optimism, biding his time. I thought I knew him pretty well, but I'm honestly not sure which way he'll go. You probably have a better idea, you've known him longer. I hope he's ok._

 _I'm glad you've found some peace in your job, and a person to look out for you. I'm glad you're not completely alone._

 _Get a motorcycle, Sam. You deserve that much, at least. And fuck the 'powers that be', don't dye your hair unless_ you _want to, it's still … huh. You know what I almost wrote? That it's still your life. None of us are the masters of our own lives anymore though, are we?_

 _Maybe we'll see each other again. I hope it with my whole heart. Until then, take care of yourself._

 _Love Daniel_

* * *

"Wow, you look like hell. Did you sleep at _all_ last night?" Hank said, when Sam got into work the morning after receiving Daniel and Cam's letters from McFly.

"Good morning to you too." She retorted sarcastically.

"Are you sick?" He asked, following her when she headed straight out to the car she'd been working on the previous day.

"I'm fine, Hank." Sam fetched her tool box from the lockup, but when she returned Hank was still standing there, scrutinising her. " _What_?"

"You need a day off, sweetheart?"

"No. I just need to work."

"You sure?"

" _Hank_ …" She gave him a look that had had airmen and cadets quaking in their Air Force issue boots for years. He didn't so much as blink. She sighed. "I got letters from a couple of old friends last night. It was … hard." She admitted.

"I'm sorry, hon. You sure you don't want to just take a day? I can manage here on my own."

"No, it's ok, I'd really rather be working."

"Alright. If you change your mind, you know where to find me." He said, giving her arm a squeeze. She mustered up a smile for him.

"Thanks Hank."

* * *

Sam supposed it had always only been a matter of time until it happened again.

She'd been working in the garage, as the day was starting to fade to dusk, when a man in his forties had wandered in off the street and attempted to flirt with her. She'd rebuffed him politely, and then forcefully, and then he'd done something ill-advised with his hand.

Next thing she knew, he was lying flat on his back on the floor, pinned by her boot on his chest, and he was staring at her with a look of startled revelation.

"Here, I know you, you're that astronaut off the TV. My little girl's nuts about you, got posters all over her walls. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Taylor! Step back!"

 _Oh great. McFly's here._

She took a few steps back with her hands raised. "There's no problem here, Nate, this gentleman just put his hand somewhere he shouldn't. I'm sure he'll know better in future. _Won't you_?" She shot that last bit at the man on the ground with venom.

"Hang on a minute …" The man said as he struggled to sit up.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Hank bellowed, coming out of the office.

Sam and McFly exchanged an uncomfortable and loaded look.

"Well?" Hank demanded. "Put that gun away, we've got tanks of gas around here! And I don't allow firearms on my premises."

"Sorry sir, I was just trying to assist the lady." McFly said, putting his gun back in its holster. "Saw this guy making an unwanted advance."

" _The lady_ can take care of herself, thank you." Sam said icily.

"He's lying, they know each other, they were just calling each other by their first names." The man on the floor argued, scrambling backwards to get up somewhere out of Sam and McFly's reach.

"Actually Taylor is my last name." Sam corrected.

"But aren't you Samantha Carter?"

"Her name's Alex Taylor, and I'm her probation officer." McFly answered smoothly. "But as I did just witness you indecently assaulting her, I'm going to recommend you get out of here before I start considering making an arrest."

The man apparently bought it, as he took one last look at her before running out the door.

"She doesn't have a probation officer." Hank challenged McFly. "So who exactly are you?"

"Let's just say I'm a concerned citizen."

"A concerned citizen who happens to know her name, and was in exactly the right place at the right time, packing heat? I wasn't born yesterday."

"I wouldn't take it personally Hank, he won't even tell _me_ his real name." Sam said.

"And just where exactly are your glasses?" McFly asked, rounding on her.

Sam sighed. "On the bench over there."

"I'm doing my best to protect you, Taylor, but you're not making it easy."

"What are you supposed to be protecting her from?" Hank asked. "People thinking she's a dead astronaut?"

McFly cocked his head, considering. "Pretty much, yes. Am I going to have a problem with you?"

"That depends. Sam? Do you trust this clown?"

McFly's eyebrows rose right into his hairline. " _Sam_ , is it?"

Sam closed her eyes briefly, praying for strength. "Nate, it's ok. Hank doesn't know anything, and even if he did, he wouldn't tell."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Hey! I happen to care what happens to her. I wouldn't sell her out." Hank said indignantly.

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm just not sure it's good enough." McFly said.

"You said you were on my side." Sam said, feeling panic rise.

"I said I didn't agree with what they were doing to you, and that I'd help you any way I could. I didn't say I'd disobey my orders."

"The fact that Hank knows my name doesn't affect your orders if he's not going to tell anyone." Sam argued, pleading.

"So what, you're some sort of secret agent from the government making sure she doesn't break your precious cover story?" Hank demanded of McFly.

"It's not my cover story." McFly said. He looked at Sam for a long moment, and then swore, looking away. "Fine, I'll overlook this, for now. But Taylor, god help me, you have _got_ to be more careful. I can't protect you if you out yourself to the general public."

Sam nodded, and sat down heavily on a bench. Her glasses appeared in her field of vision, and she looked up angrily to find McFly brandishing them at her. She grabbed them and with a vicious twist, snapped them clean in half and threw the pieces across the floor. Then she lowered her head into her hands, and sobbed.

When she had composed herself somewhat, she looked up to find that McFly had vanished, and Hank was sitting beside her on the bench stoically, a box of tissues in the space between them. She took one with a mumbled word of thanks, and he smiled at her and patted her hand.

"Anytime, honey."

* * *

The next day, on what would have been her due date to have Jake, Sam went out and bought a box of brunette hair dye. She went home, dyed her hair, drank an entire bottle of wine while re-reading Daniel and Cam's letters, and then went to bed and stayed there for two days.

* * *

"Taylor! Open up!"

Sam opened her eyes blearily. There was light coming through the curtains, but she wasn't sure what time it was. She couldn't even have said with one hundred percent certainty what day it was.

"Taylor! Open the door!"

She sat up, rubbing at her face with her hands. She felt grimy.

"Last chance, Taylor, or I'm breaking down the door!"

"For crying out loud." Sam muttered, getting stiffly to her feet and walking towards the door.

"One! Two! …"

She opened the door, cutting McFly off mid-count.

"What." She said flatly.

He stared. "Your hair …"

"Was there something you wanted?" She asked.

"I uh, I haven't seen you in over 48 hours. I was worried."

"You were worried, or protocol dictated that you have to make visual contact with your target at least once every 48 hours?"

"I was worried." He emphasised, and pushed past her into the apartment. "What have you been doing?"

"Sleeping."

"Have you eaten?"

"Since when?"

"Since, I don't know, since yesterday? Or since the confrontation in the garage?"

She didn't answer.

"Taylor, what's going on?"

"That's not my name."

"Why did you dye your hair?"

She looked at him incredulously. "You've been bugging me to dye my hair since the day we met."

"Yeah, but you've always said you'd sooner chew your own arm off. Why the sudden change of heart?"

She looked away. "I'm sorry I put you in an awkward position."

"What?" He looked thrown.

"I told Hank my real name. And I broke my government-issue glasses in half and threw them at you. For either one of those things your orders would demand you report me, but it's been at least two days and I'm still here, so obviously you didn't."

"I …" He looked like he didn't know what to say.

"My son would have been born around now. My due date was December 21st." She told him in an expressionless voice.

"Oh, Sam …" McFly breathed.

"My daughter would have been eighteen months old. She's gone now, along with everyone else I ever knew."

"Listen …"

"I honestly wasn't trying to rebel against you with the glasses. I don't even notice when I take them off, it just happens without me thinking about it. That guy in the garage, he wasn't harassing me because he recognised me, he was trying to hit on me. I overreacted and decked him, and _then_ he recognised me.

"Anyway, you've been good to me when you had no reason to, and I felt bad about the glasses, and frankly I'm sick of looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's looking too closely, so I dyed my hair. If my daughter saw me now she wouldn't recognise me."

At the end of her speech her voice wavered, and she sat down heavily on the couch, covering her eyes with shaking hands. A moment later she felt the soft pressure around her shoulders of a blanket, and opened her eyes to see McFly tucking it around her.

"They promoted me." He blurted out. "After a fashion, anyway. Jefferson wanted you off his plate, and since I've convinced them that you and I have developed a bit of a rapport and that you listen to me, they made me your handler."

"What does that mean?"

"It means … I'm the one you report to now. All those rules they gave you, about what you can do and where you can go, any of those that have leeway tend to say something about getting permission from your handler, which was Jefferson. Now it's me."

"Can I talk to Daniel and Cameron?"

He winced. "That's the one thing I can't do. Any contact would involve not only me, but your friends' handlers too. Those guys are pretty by-the-book. I won't be able to get them on board, and I can't get around them without getting caught."

Sam closed her eyes and nodded. "I understand."

"I can try and arrange for you to write to each other again. After all, if we managed it once without any major security breaches, I don't see any reason we can't do it again. And maybe, after a while of that, we can work our way up to a phone call."

"I would appreciate that."

McFly squeezed her hand. "I'm really sorry about the baby, Sam. And your daughter. And … well, everything, I suppose."

Sam clenched her jaw, trying not to cry.

"Hey, you got any plans for Christmas?" He asked after a few moments of silence.

"Well, my brother thinks I'm dead, and the government won't let me see my friends, so that would be a no." She said sarcastically.

McFly rolled his eyes. "I meant like dinner with Hank, or something."

"He's going out of town. He always spends Christmas in Michigan."

McFly nodded. "Come spend Christmas with me."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "With you?"

"With the Harrisons." He amended.

"Who are the Harrisons?"

"My family." He said. He smiled wryly and held out his hand. "Nate Harrison, nice to meet you."

Sam smiled, taking his hand. "Nice to meet you too, Nate Harrison. And yes, Christmas with the Harrisons sounds great."

* * *

"Take your time getting out, I need to have a quick word with my mother." Nate said as he pulled the car to a halt in the driveway of his parents' big farmhouse.

He didn't wait for Sam's response, leaping out of the car as soon as it was stationary and intercepting his mother as she trotted eagerly down the path towards them.

"Merry Christmas!" His mother greeted him enthusiastically, reaching up to give him a hug. She was a good foot and a half shorter than him, but strong as an ox.

"Mom, I brought a guest." He said in a fast-paced undertone. "Before you get any ideas, she's not my girlfriend, she's just a friend, but she's had a rough time of it lately and she needed some company for the holidays. I hope you don't mind. Please be nice."

His mother swatted his arm reproachfully. "Of course I'll be nice. The more the merrier."

"Is there a spare bed she can use?"

"Rosie is in a twin room on her own, I'll put your friend in with her." Her gaze was focussed beyond him, at Sam getting out of the car.

"Hi there, honey." His mother called to Sam. "Nate, for goodness sake, go be a gentleman and help the young lady with her bags."

Nate rolled his eyes and went back to Sam, but in truth she packed lighter than any woman he'd ever known, so he ended up just taking his own luggage rather than hers.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Nate's mother asked him, as he and Sam made their way up the path.

"Mom, this is Alexandra Taylor. Taylor, this is my mother, Karen Harrison."

"It's nice to meet you Mrs Harrison." Sam said with a warm, polite smile. "I'm sorry for turning up uninvited like this."

"Nonsense hon, you're more than welcome. Go on inside, it's freezing out here." Sam proceeded into the house obediently, but Nate's mother caught his arm when he went to follow. "You call your friend by her last name?" She asked with raised eyebrows.

Nate shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. We met through work, so it just sort of became a habit. You should hear what she calls me most of the time."

Karen huffed. "It's a bit vulgar of you."

Nate rolled his eyes. "She doesn't mind. She's ex-military, she's used to it."

"Still. I can see I'm going to have to work on those manners of yours while you're here."

"Whatever you say, Mom." He obsequiously.

* * *

Sam found herself alone in a pretty twin bed guest room a little while later, with her small bag of luggage at the end of one of the beds. She was feeling a little overwhelmed, having spent the last few months only ever talking to Hank or McFly, and spending almost every waking moment either in her crappy apartment or at Hank's garage, now to be flung into this huge, beautiful house with Nate's equally huge (in terms of numbers, at least) and beautiful family.

At least it wasn't causing any painful reminders of home. She'd never really done the all-American big family home-for-the-holidays thing. She'd grown up an Air Force brat – when her Dad had even been home they'd only ever done a quiet family celebration in whatever city he happened to be stationed in at the time – and since her mother died she hadn't even done that. For most of her adult life, Christmas had been a small get together with whichever of her friends were available.

She was trying not to think about it, but she'd even spent her daughter's first and only Christmas about as far away from home as humanly possible, out in the Pegasus galaxy.

The door opened suddenly, making her jump.

"Hey, I'm Rosie, Nate's little sister." The tall woman with curly red hair introduced herself as she swept into the room. "I hear you're my roomie."

"I hope you don't mind." Sam said, nodding. "I'm a friend of Nate's, Alex Taylor."

"Nice to meet you Alex." Rosie gave her a sly grin, and stepped a bit closer. "You know, my mom's pretty progressive, as moms go. She wouldn't bat an eye if you wanted to stay in Nate's room with him."

"Oh, no, I'm not … I mean we're not … I'm just a friend, really." Sam stuttered.

Rosie smiled sceptically. "Nate doesn't have female friends."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. "I guess I could downgrade myself to 'acquaintance'."

Rosie snorted. "Whatever. But for the record, there's no one here that wouldn't be thrilled to see Nate romantically involved again."

"Again?"

"He didn't tell you?" Rosie lowered her voice. "About five or six years ago, his fiancée Meg, who was pregnant at the time, was killed in a car accident. It was awful, he was crushed. I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

"Like I said, we're not … we don't have that kind of relationship. We're just barely friends, that's it."

"No potential for more?"

"None whatsoever. If anything I'd say he's like an annoying older brother."

Rosie burst out laughing. "Well God knows I can relate to that."

* * *

"What are we doing?" Sam whispered to Nate, standing beside her amid the mass of towering Harrisons.

"We're decorating the tree." He said, handing her a bauble. "It's Christmas."

"It's Christmas _Eve_. Don't most people put up Christmas decorations a little earlier than this?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "It's just tradition that the whole family does it together, and since we all left home we've never been able to all get together for it until Christmas Eve."

"I suppose that's … kind of nice."

"You might want to hang that bauble while there's still a square inch of space left." He said, giving her a gentle shove in the direction of the tree. "There are a lot more Harrisons than there is tree space these days."

Sam felt intensely awkward, leaning between a couple of Nate's brothers and over a niece to hang the bauble on the nearest available branch. She retreated as fast as possible, and held up her hands to decline the next hanging trinket Nate tried to hand her.

"Uh-uh. It's all yours." She said. "It's a family thing, remember?"

He gave her a weird look but waded into the sea of brothers and nieces and nephews. She watched him for a moment, as he joked with his brothers, lifting a nephew up to help the child hang a bit of tinsel high on the tree. Behind her Rosie and Mrs Harrison and a few of Nate's sisters-in-law were handing out ornaments and tinsel to eager young children. She suddenly felt incredibly out of place, like an intruder at a private family affair.

She made a beeline for the back door, and let herself out into the chilled evening air. She pulled her cardigan closer around her body and took a few slow steps to the deck railing, leaning against it and looking out at the dark fields that disappeared into mist.

A moment later she heard the door open behind her.

"Taylor?"

"Just getting some air." She said. "Go back inside."

"Come with me, you'll catch your death out here."

"It's not that cold."

She heard the door close, and assumed he'd gone in, but a moment later the floorboard squeaked behind her as he walked towards her. He leaned on the railing next to her, joining her in staring into the distance.

"So?"

"….so?"

"What are we doing?" He asked.

"Well, you're missing your family tree tradition thing. You should really go back inside."

"The important part's done." He argued. She felt him looking at her, but didn't turn her face from the fields.

"Was it too much?" He asked. "A reminder of Christmas with your own family or something …?"

Sam shook her head impatiently. "Nothing like that. I never did Christmas like this. I just … I guess I felt in the way, like I was intruding. I don't belong here."

She felt stupid as soon as she said it. Of course she didn't belong here. She didn't belong with this family, in this house, or even in this life, in this timeline … it was ludicrous to even pretend. She couldn't imagine what had possessed her to accept Nate's invitation.

"You know the thing about having a big family?" Nate asked after a moment.

She looked at him, finally, and shook her head no.

"With that many siblings, and aunts and uncles, and these days even nieces and nephews that are turning eighteen or god-forbid even older, there's always a new boyfriend or girlfriend in tow, a new face at the table. Every single year. This year alone there are at least two people here I don't know. Harrison family Christmas always includes new people, it's just another part of the tradition."

Sam smiled. "Thanks Nate."

He grinned far wider than the simple thanks deserved, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What?"

"You didn't call me McFly." He pointed out, still grinning.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Just while we're here. It might have been a tough nickname to explain to your family."

"I'll take what I can get."

She smiled, and they stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, looking out at the fields. She considered telling him that Rosie had told her about his fiancée, and telling him how sorry she was, but she decided not to bring it up. It was Christmas after all – why remind him of such an awful loss. She knew that pain, and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

* * *

On Christmas morning, Sam busied herself helping Karen in the kitchen, steering clear of the general chaos of the living room in which a dozen children of varying ages were all eagerly tearing through small mountains of presents, under the supervision of their parents and aunts and uncles.

Some time towards the end of the morning, when the cooking preparations were all but done and the younger generation were becoming absorbed in their new acquisitions, Karen put a glass of sherry in Sam's hand and firmly propelled her towards a chair at the kitchen table, declaring she'd helped enough.

"Don't you have any presents you want to open?" Karen asked.

"I have one." Sam admitted. "It's in the trunk of Nate's car."

"Wait right there, I'll have Nate fetch it. Nate!" Karen yelled as she bustled out of the room, too fast to hear Sam begin to protest that it was unnecessary.

A minute or two passed, and Karen reappeared trailed by McFly, who was carrying the gift she'd been given by Hank.

"This thing weighs a tonne, Taylor. Did Hank put the components for an entire car in here or something?"

It sounded like he was teasing, but Sam knew Nate was wondering if he ought to be worried about the contents. She was a little worried herself – it wasn't like Hank was privy to her list of contraband.

"Well, go on then, open it." Karen encouraged her eagerly, in a tone that made Sam think the older woman regretted missing out on watching the children open their gifts earlier.

She tore open the wrapping paper, under Karen's enthusiastic gaze, and McFly's wary one.

It was a toolbox, exactly like one she used to own in her old life, containing some particularly high quality versions of the tools she used everyday at the garage. She had told Hank many times how much she missed her old, perfect toolbox. She thought it was a wonderful gift, although Karen didn't look impressed.

"How … lovely." Karen said, and patted Sam on the shoulder before returning to the turkey.

"Please tell me you're not going to confiscate this." Sam whispered to Nate.

He looked pained. "It would help if you agreed to keep it at the garage."

She sighed. "Fine."

He sat down opposite her, and tapped his fingernails on the table surface. "So … I got you a present too." He said.

Sam raised her eyebrows. "You did?"

"Only, I bought it before our little blowout at the garage, before you snapped your glasses and dyed your hair. The thing is, it was meant to be funny – the gift, I mean – but now it wouldn't be, so I ditched it."

"Oh. Can I ask what it was?"

He winced. "Nah, best not. Anyway, in lieu of a gift, I just wanted to say this: One way or another, in the next few months I will get you a phone call with your friends. I promise."

Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you."

* * *

In the new year, Sam got to the garage one morning to find a tall, skinny and immaculately groomed young man waiting for her with a cup of coffee.

"Good morning Ms Taylor." He greeted her with a wide smile.

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head, and gave a bemused smile. "Hi." She said cautiously, and glanced at Hank where he sat hunched over the accounts ledger at his desk. "Hank?"

He looked up at her and blinked owlishly for a moment, and Sam cocked her head and swivelled her eyes pointedly in the kid's direction until he got it. "Right! This is Kieran. He's our new apprentice."

"I'm very excited at the opportunity." Kieran gushed, and Sam gave him another weird look.

"Thanks for the coffee." She said, and made her way over to her work bench. Hank followed.

"He's … keen." She said in an undertone as the older man approached.

"Yeah, I know. It's kind of endearing though, don't you think? I mean, most kids his age wouldn't give a shit. I thought his attitude might be good for the place. A breath of fresh air or something, you know?"

Sam was trying not to draw comparisons with the eager young SGC recruits she used to meet every year.

"Does he have any practical experience?" She asked.

"Not much, but, that's really what he's here to get, isn't it?" He looked at her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for her approval.

She shrugged. "Hey, it's your garage. If you're happy, I'm happy."

* * *

"You got mail." McFly said in a sing-song voice when Sam opened her apartment door to him in mid-January.

She grinned, and took the proffered envelopes. "Daniel and Cam?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Matthew Stephens and Bryan Bennett." He corrected, and then sighed. "Yes, Daniel and Cameron."

"How soon can I write back?"

"I should be able to get clearance for it once every few weeks. I'll let you know." He said.

"Thank you." She said sincerely.

"You bet." He smiled fondly at her. "Go read your letters."

* * *

The Navy were getting desperate.

It had been five months since they had begun to study the stargate, and they had made no progress. In one sense, Sam couldn't really fault them, since the Air Force had spent longer than that trying to figure it out in the nineties, but these guys at least had the advantage of knowing exactly what the huge metal ring was supposed to do. When Sam had been studying it as a bright-eyed young Captain at the Pentagon, she hadn't even had that much.

Still, by the light of a glowing laptop screen in her little bedroom, she watched over the weeks as they became more and more fraught. The government was putting intense pressure on Admiral Darrence, the commanding officer in charge of the project. Darrence, in turn, was clearly terrorising the science department they'd hired to work out of McMurdo, judging by the tone of the emails the scientists shot to each other back and forth every day.

So yeah. They were desperate. And Sam was increasingly sure this could only be good news for her. If they couldn't figure it out on their own, _eventually_ she was sure they'd call on her or Daniel.

Until, one terrible day in early February, her hopes were dashed. They did get desperate enough to call for help, but they didn't call her, or Daniel, or Cam.

They called Rodney McKay.


	5. Chapter 5 - Spring

**Chapter 5 – Spring**

A cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake on a paper plate landed on Sam's workbench next to the invoice she was carefully writing out, and she sighed.

"Kieran …"

"I know you said not to buy you that anymore, but it's good for you."

Sam's eyebrows rose into her hairline, and the ghost of Janet Fraiser pitched a five-alarm fit in her head.

"Well, ok, not good for you as in _healthy_ , but chocolate is good for the soul." Kieran amended.

Sam shook her head. "And you think my soul needs chocolate?"

Kieran shrugged skinny shoulders. "You've been down lately. It's comfort food."

Sam smiled sadly. "You're a sweet kid, Kieran, but you're not my mother. It's not your responsibility to cheer me up."

"I know. I'm just being neighbourly."

"Just eat the cake." Hank interjected loudly from his desk across the garage. "You're too damn skinny anyway."

Sam snorted in derision, but obediently took the plastic fork and speared a chunk of gooey chocolate. Kieran nodded, looking pleased, and went back to the inventory he'd been taking. She rolled her eyes at Hank, who was chuckling to himself.

The cake was good, and she was fond of Kieran and his attempts to lift her mood with sugar, but the situation souring her mood unfortunately couldn't be fixed by the magical healing powers of cake.

Dr Rodney McKay had been hired by the stargate program to figure out how to make the gate work. She'd been anticipating for months the moment when the Navy would throw up their hands in defeat and call her, or Daniel, but the moment had come and gone and they'd called McKay instead.

And it was all her own damn fault.

In a moment of peak frustration in the interminable interview she had had on her arrival in this timeline, she had asked them to call him. The man interviewing her had been incapable of understanding even the basic physics behind the concepts she had been trying to explain, and she just wanted someone who would understand her, who could then advocate for her to the government while sounding like they knew what they were talking about. She had figured Rodney was her best bet, but her request had fallen on deaf ears. Or so she had thought.

But now, they had clearly gone back and watched those interviews over, and noted her request for him. The trouble was, she was pretty sure that Rodney McKay was one of the few people on the planet who may actually be able to figure out the stargate all on his own. Her plan to worm her way back in when they called for help was shot.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? She impaled another piece of cake viciously, earning herself an alarmed look from Kieran. She forced herself to give him a placating smile.

If chocolate cake was the solution to her problems, she was going to get _so_ fat.

* * *

"How do you stay _alive?_ " McFly asked Sam incredulously, peering at the inside of her refrigerator.

"Hey, just because I'm not a gourmet chef doesn't mean I don't eat perfectly well." Sam argued. "And anyway, you're the one who invited yourself over for dinner, I never promised to cook for you."

McFly shut the fridge with an exasperated sigh. "Takeout it is."

"So what happened?" Sam asked, as he started flipping through her takeout menus. "Did your girlfriend dump you or something?"

McFly gave her a weird look. "I don't have a girlfriend, and nothing happened."

"We don't do this." Sam said, wiggling her finger between the two of them.

"Do what?"

"Hang out."

"Well, maybe we should. We're friends, sort of."

"You're not my friend, you're my handler."

"Ouch, Taylor."

"See? My friends call me by my name."

"Taylor _is_ your name." He sighed. "Why can't I be your handler _and_ your friend?"

"Because … because you have power over me. You're basically the face of my oppression. Being your friend would be a kind of Stockholm syndrome."

He looked hurt. "We spent the holidays together."

Sam felt a little guilty. "Ok, so maybe we're sort of friends. But you've got to admit it's weird."

" _You're_ weird."

Sam chuckled. "Hard to argue with that."

He sat down next to her. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Chinese." She handed him a sticky note with the pencilled numbers of her usual order, and he added a few numbers of his own. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?" He asked distractedly, attention on the menu.

"Why are we 'hanging out' tonight?"

"No particular reason."

"Bull."

"Why does there have to be a special reason?"

" _McFly_ …" she wheedled.

"Because I'm worried about you." He answered, exasperated. "You've not been yourself lately. I figure you're missing your family, or depressed about this whole situation, or something, and I thought I'd remind you that you _do_ have a friend."

He was looking at her with an intent, open expression, the one that both Daniel and Cameron did so well, the one that said 'trust me, I'm a good guy'. It was so hard not to think of him as a friend when he looked at her like that.

She looked away, embarrassed, and picked up the landline to place the order with the restaurant while McFly fetched them both a beer.

"So what is it?" He asked when he had sat down again, and Sam had hung up the phone.

"What is what?"

"What's been bothering you?"

 _I've been spying on the McMurdo base behind your back with a secret laptop you don't know about, and I know they've just hired Rodney McKay. I don't know how I'm going to get through the stargate and fix the timeline anymore._ "What you said." She said with a fixed expression. "Missing my family."

He smiled sympathetically and patted her hand. "You know you can talk to me about it, if you want, right?"

"Thanks, but I'm good."

He looked disappointed. "Well, the offer stands." He rapped his knuckles on the table, as if to alleviate some tension. "I can deliver letters to your friends again on Friday, if you want."

Sam looked at her hands, twisting her fingers together. It was the first time that the idea of writing to Daniel and Cameron hadn't been an excitement. She couldn't tell them what was plaguing her every waking thought, that they'd lost their chance. Would she even want to tell them, if she could? Maybe they were better off, in the dark, still hoping. She wasn't sure she wanted to know it herself.

She sighed, annoyed with herself. Just because Rodney was in the program now, it didn't necessarily mean he would figure out how to make the stargate work. Maybe this reality's McKay was a dunce.

Not likely.

At any rate, she shouldn't pass up an opportunity to communicate with Daniel and Cam. It wouldn't be fair to them, and she'd regret it later.

"Thanks." She said.

"I know it's not a phone call." McFly said apologetically. "I _am_ working on that. It's just been tough convincing Commander Jefferson that it's not too much of a security risk."

"What could I possibly say to either of them in a phone call that would be a security risk?" Sam asked. "We're all carefully monitored prisoners, and anything we said in a phone call would be listened to by you, Jefferson, and probably a room full of agents. It's not like we could hatch a plan to steal the stargate and fix the timeline with you all listening."

McFly looked pained. "I'm doing the best I can."

She sighed again. "I know you are."

"Just out of interest, if you had the chance, would you do that? Steal the stargate and re-write history?"

She looked at him for a long moment. "For the sake of our 'friendship', I think it's best I don't answer that."

He looked away. "No, you're probably right."

* * *

On Friday night, Sam got a surprise visitor to her apartment.

"We're going out." Hank announced.

"Out?" Sam repeated, blind-sided both by his appearance at her door and the announcement. He was dressed in the same plaid shirt and jeans he'd worn to work that day.

"To a bar." He clarified. "Come on, get your coat."

"Hank, I can't go to a bar with you."

"Why not?" He asked.

She opened her mouth and closed it again, floundering for a suitable response.

"I'm not hitting on you, if that's what you're thinking." Hank said.

"No, God no, I don't think that." Sam said in a rush. "It's just, I'm not supposed to go to places like bars."

"It'll be fine, you look totally different since you dyed your hair. Nobody's gonna recognise you."

"Still …"

"Is it that government agent?" He asked. "Is he gonna turn up and stop you?"

Sam considered it. "No, he'll probably just follow me at a distance and then lecture me about it later."

"Well, ok then. Let's go. You need a night out."

Sam sighed. A good drink did sound tempting. "Alright."

Two hours later, she had a pretty good buzz going. She hadn't drunk much in the six months she'd been in this timeline, and before that she'd spent months pregnant in Atlantis, so she didn't have much of a tolerance for it. She'd already spotted McFly, hovering at the other end of the bar, glowering at her. She wondered how drunk she could get before he marched over and escorted her home.

Hank was doing a lot of talking. Alcohol apparently made him chatty. Mostly she just listened, but eventually he turned his full attention on her.

"Are you ever going to tell me what your deal is?" He asked.

"Probably not."

"Is it going to be like this forever?"

"Like what?" She asked.

"You, working at my garage, with the fake name and Mr Smith over there following you everywhere you go?" He gestured to McFly with his glass.

Sam winced. "I don't know."

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Sam looked at him. "A bit late for the job interview, isn't it?"

"It's not an unreasonable question. I have a business to run, I'd like to know whether any plans I make for the future should include you."

"Don't make any plans that depend on me." She told him.

"Why not? Are you going somewhere?"

"I don't _know_ , Hank."

"Well, that's … really unhelpful." He said. "How are you supposed to live your life if you don't know what's going to happen to you?"

"With great difficulty."

He huffed and drained his glass. "Is that why you've been so depressed lately? Cos you're stuck in limbo like this?"

She swirled the gold coloured liquid around her own glass. She supposed that wasn't far from the truth. "I guess that's part of it."

"What triggered it? I mean, you seemed pretty okay after the holidays, I mean, by your standards at least, but then …" He made a vague gesture in the air.

She resisted the urge to glance in McFly's direction. She didn't know if he could lip-read, but the bar was loud enough that he wouldn't be able to hear anything she said. She turned her face away from him.

"There was something I was hoping would happen, something that would help me get out of this situation and maybe get my life back. But, something else happened instead, and now I've …" She broke off, upset and searching for words. "I've lost that chance. I don't know what to do now. I don't have a plan."

"You feel helpless." Hank said.

Sam nodded. "Yes, that's it exactly."

Hank nodded sagely, looking serious as he slid his glass back and forth between his hands on the table. "You need a new plan." He told her eventually.

"It's not exactly that easy." She argued.

"Doesn't matter. You can't just rattle around between the garage and your apartment without any hope. Make a plan. Even if it's far-fetched and unlikely and desperate. Just … make yourself a new hope."

She rested her cheek on her hand, elbow on the table, looking at him sideways. "And what if that one falls through too?"

"Then you make another one." He squeezed her shoulder. "You don't give up, Sam. Not ever."

Sam shut her eyes, a tear squeezing out between her eyelids and rolling down her cheek. "Ok." She said. "Ok. I'll try."

"Good girl."

* * *

On a cold March night, Sam was startled awake by a hand on her shoulder. She lashed out on reflex, but a big strong hand caught her arm and held her at bay.

"It's me." McFly hissed, and Sam relaxed a little.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Sam demanded.

"Keep your voice down." McFly said. "I don't want any of the audio bugs in the other room picking us up."

Sam stared at him. "Nate, what are you doing?"

He pulled something out of his pocket, and held it up to her. It was a cellphone.

"What's that for?" Sam asked, taking it hesitantly.

"There's one number saved in the contact list. At exactly 02:30, dial it. Daniel Jackson will answer."

She couldn't breathe. "Are you serious?"

"Jefferson was never going to authorise a call, but I made you a promise at Christmas. This is me following through."

"I can't believe you did this. If you get caught …"

"I won't. I was careful. Just keep your voice down while you're talking to him. You get two minutes, and then you have to hang up. I'm going to sit over there, and when you're done you'll give me back the phone. Just … don't say anything that's going to make me regret doing this for you." He said, eyes pleading.

She nodded, dumbly, and pulled him into a quick, fierce hug. "Thank you." She breathed.

He looked at his watch when he pulled back. "Ten seconds."

She opened the contact on the phone and got ready to press call.

"Three … two … one … now."

She hit call.

With the phone pressed to her ear, Sam listened to the line connect. It barely got through a single ring before it was answered.

"Sam?"

The flood of emotion that hit Sam at the sound of Daniel's soft, urgent voice was staggering.

"Daniel!" She choked. "It's me."

"Sam! Oh my God. A woman broke into my apartment and just handed me this phone and said it would ring and it would be you, but I didn't want to hope it was true …"

"It's true, it's me, I swear. It's so good to hear your voice. I've missed you so much."

"I miss you too. Are you ok?"

"I'm …" She floundered. "I'm doing the best I can. It's been hard, but I'm coping. How about you?"

"Uh … the same, I guess. I don't know, without you guys, and my own life … sometimes I feel like a ghost. A lot of the time, actually. I just keep telling myself that it's not forever, that eventually they'll start to trust us and we'll get to see each other, or to help out with the stargate program. They've got to have recovered it by now, right? Or the other one in Antarctica, maybe? Do you know anything about what's going on?"

She hesitated, looking at McFly. He could only hear her side of the conversation, but the agent at Daniel's end would have heard the question, and she had to assume they'd compare notes later.

"A little. Not much. We're not allowed to talk about that."

"Says who? Oh … you've got someone listening at your end too." He guessed.

"The friend who arranged this." Sam confirmed. "Daniel, listen, we've only got two minutes."

"Can your friend help us?" He asked. "I mean, really help us, more than just a phone call?"

"Not at the moment." She said. "I'm hoping eventually, maybe."

"I'm just relieved to hear that we've got someone even remotely on our side." Daniel said. "Who are they? Or can't you say?"

"No, I can't." Sam said. "Daniel, are they treating you ok? Are you getting all the medical care you need?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine." He said. "I've got a good prosthetic, and I'm getting physiotherapy, I'm learning to walk on it. I was on anti-depressants for a while, but they made me sleep twenty hours a day so I stopped taking them."

"Just don't give up, ok?"

"I won't." He said with an emotional sigh. "I can't tell you how much this call is helping with that. Sam … we'll fix this, won't we?"

She closed her eyes. "I don't know. I hope so."

"Are you going to be talking to Mitchell too?"

"I don't think so, I think this is it."

"Well at least this is something. I missed hearing your voice. The letters are great, but I always worry about what you don't say. I just wanted to _talk_ , you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean." Sam agreed.

"They had to relocate me a month ago. Apparently this timeline's Daniel Jackson was coming to stay nearby and they didn't want our paths crossing. Have you managed to stay in the same place or have you had trouble with people recognising you?"

"I haven't moved. People were recognising me occasionally but it hasn't happened since I dyed my hair dark."

"You dyed your hair?" He sounded dismayed.

"I know, right?" She chucked hollowly. "I hardly recognise myself in the mirror."

"But you're still working at that garage, for that man who was being a friend to you?"

"Yeah I am. He's looking out for me."

"Good, I'm so glad. I've been so worried."

"I know, I've been worried about you too."

"I wish I could see you."

"Me too." Her voice quivered with emotion. "But I have to believe we'll see each other again eventually."

McFly waved at her, and mouthed 'twenty seconds'.

"Daniel, we've got twenty seconds and then I have to hang up, so I just want to say that I love you, and I miss you, and please take care of yourself."

"I love you too, Sam. Remember you're not alone. I'll always be here, and so is Mitchell. We'll be together again someday, I'm sure of it."

Tears streamed down Sam's face. "Goodbye Daniel."

"Goodbye Sam." He said in a choked voice. "I love you."

"I love you too."

McFly waved his hand horizontally across his throat in a kill gesture. "That's it, Sam." He whispered.

"Bye Daniel." Sam breathed, and pressed the end call button.

She put a hand to her mouth to smother the sob she couldn't hold back. McFly took the phone from her other hand and then pulled her against his chest, holding her until she stopped crying.

"Thank you so much." She whispered when she could breathe again. "That call meant more to me than I can possibly say."

"You're welcome."

* * *

The call with Daniel did wonders for Sam's mood. She took Hank's advice, and made herself hope again, buoyed by the sound of her best friend's voice. Kieran even stopped bringing her chocolate cake.

She kept monitoring the stargate program, and took a strange, grim kind of comfort in the fact that McKay didn't seem to be having any luck with the stargate. Judging by the derogatory remarks in the emails of the other scientists in the program, he wasn't much different from the McKay of her own timeline in terms of personality, which she supposed made sense. His life shouldn't have been much different up until the point when he would have been hired into the program.

She considered trying to contact him directly. If she could get him on side, he could be a valuable ally. She thought she could probably convince him, if they spoke face to face, but that was impossible. He was in Antarctica, and she was completely trapped in her little town. The trouble was, it was too risky to contact him by other means. His phone and email would probably be monitored, and there was no guarantee he'd trust her, a stranger, if she contacted him out of the blue in that way.

So Sam kept her hopes focussed on the idea of McKay getting so frustrated with the lack of progress that he himself asked for her help. It was by no means guaranteed – she knew from personal experience that Rodney's ego was a force to be reckoned with – but it was all she had, for the moment.

Or so she thought … until Jeannie Miller knocked on her door.

* * *

"Oh my God, Sam … it really is you!" Jeannie threw her arms around Sam and squeezed.

"Uh … hi." Sam said, shocked at the sudden and unexpected appearance of Rodney McKay's sister at her door. Her mind went into overdrive, trying to work out the implications of this. Did Jeannie know about her from Rodney, and if so, did she have authorisation to be here? Was this the long awaited moment when she could get back into the program? Or did Jeannie think she was this timeline's Carter? Was her cover blown?

"I came as soon as I found out where you were." Jeannie said, pushing past Sam into the apartment. "It wasn't easy, they _really_ didn't want you to be found."

Sam gave a tight smile. She still couldn't tell whether Jeannie knew her story or not.

"Of course, Rodney's too wrapped up in that 'stargate' to come himself." Jeannie continued, and Sam let out the breath she'd been holding, relieved. "He's obsessed. I told him we could use your help, but he says that's impossible, that they won't let you … is that true?"

"It is." Sam confirmed. "They think I'll try and go through the gate."

"To fix the timeline?"

"Something like that. Jeannie, are you authorised to be here?"

Jeannie chuckled nervously, wringing her hands in a gesture that reminded Sam of Rodney. "Not exactly."

Sam closed her eyes briefly, then shook her head. "Come with me."

Jeannie followed her into Sam's bedroom, looking confused. "My apartment's bugged, but I'm pretty sure this room's clean." Sam explained. "Why are you here?"

"To see you, of course." Jeannie said. "When I heard about how they'd exiled you out here, and what you've been through … it's awful the way they've treated you. I just had to see if you were ok."

Sam was touched. "Did you know me, I mean, the 'me' from this timeline? The astronaut Carter?"

"Well of course I did, silly." Jeannie said with a laugh. "Why, didn't you and Rodney ever date in your timeline? I know you knew each other, you mentioned him in your interview, I saw it."

 _Date? Rodney?_

"Me and … Rodney?" Sam repeated slowly.

Jeannie chuckled. "From the expression on your face I'll take that as a 'no'."

"Let's just say Rodney and I never had _that_ kind of a relationship." Sam said. She shook her head. "How did we – they – even meet, without the stargate program?"

"Nasa." Jeannie answered simply. "The three of us all worked there on a project together, about, oh, four years ago? Five? You and Rodney dated for about two years after that."

Sam didn't know what that meant for her chances of Rodney asking her for help. Would he be more likely to, if he knew her, or would he want to avoid any awkwardness at seeing the ghost of his dead ex-girlfriend? It was strange, she'd been in a similar situation before, when she had inadvertently travelled to a parallel universe and met the Rodney who had been married to that universe's Carter. But this wasn't an alternate reality, where she could explain it away with personality differences. This was what her own life would have been, if the stargate program had never happened. It was spooky.

"Did it end amicably?" She asked. Jeannie wrinkled her nose.

"Not exactly. He's over it though, if that's what you're worried about. They were pretty much back on speaking terms before … before we lost her." Jeannie looked away, her expression pained.

"I'm sorry." Sam said, awkwardly.

"We were friends." Jeannie explained with a sigh. "I miss her."

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "Can I ask how the work on the stargate is going?"

"It's fascinating. A real, fantastical puzzle. We're a little bit stumped though. Rodney's pretty sure he knows how it conducts energy, but we can't get it to actually turn on."

Sam bit her lip.

"I don't suppose you feel like telling me …" Jeannie asked hopefully.

Sam put her hands over her face. There was a dilemma and a half. If she told Jeannie what they were missing, they would never officially call her in and grant her access in exchange for that information. But on the other hand, Earth needed a working stargate. They needed to be ready for whatever Ba'al was planning.

"You need to convince them to bring me in." Sam said. "I'll help, _if_ they'll let me be a part of the program."

Jeannie looked dismayed. "They're not going to do that."

"If Rodney can't figure it out …"

"He called _me_ because he couldn't figure it out. But it could be months before he accepts that the two of us together can't do it either. And you never know, we might figure it out on our own without you. I mean, someone must have figured it out in _your_ timeline, right?"

Sam nodded, resigned. "But Jeannie … I _need_ access to the gate. If you've seen the interview recordings, you _know_ how important it is. Ba'al could arrive in orbit at any moment with a fleet of motherships, ready to enslave the entire population of Earth. _No one_ is taking that threat seriously, and only myself, Daniel Jackson and Cameron Mitchell understand the threat well enough to do anything about it."

Jeannie looked uncomfortable. "But if what you say is true, and Ba'al was really a threat, he'd be here by now, wouldn't he? I mean, it's been decades. What exactly is he waiting for?"

"He would have to build a power base, acquire ships and resources, and jaffa to fight for him. That would take time. But _this_ is the time period he is most familiar with, so I'm sure he won't want to wait much longer."

"Sam, it's not up to me. I'm barely even staff, I have zero leverage."

"Then get Rodney to request my help! Please Jeannie."

Jeannie paced back and forth a bit. "Ok. Ok, I'll talk to Rodney. But I can't promise you it will work."

"Do you think you could keep me in the loop in the meantime? I can show you how to get messages to me without it being detected."

"God, Sam … I don't know if I can do that."

"Please Jeannie."

"What if I got caught? I've got my kids to think of."

Sam's heart clenched and she closed her eyes. She couldn't argue with that. She yearned to still have Beth to worry about like that …

Jeannie obviously sensed the direction of her thoughts, as a moment later Sam felt Jeannie's arm slip around her shoulders.

"Sam, I –"

She was interrupted by a banging on the front door.

"Taylor, open up!"

Jeannie flinched, looking panicked, but Sam raised a placating hand. "Don't worry, he won't report you."

She wearily walked to the front door and opened it, just as McFly started another round of banging.

"You have _Jeannie Miller_ in your apartment." He said, accusingly.

Sam just raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. McFly rolled his eyes and pushed past her.

"Mrs Miller, would you come out here please."

Jeannie came out of the bedroom, a scared expression on her face.

"Mrs Miller, you are not allowed to be here. Ms Taylor is under government protection and any visitors could blow her cover."

"Nate, calm down, she's a friend and she's only here because she was worried about me." Sam said.

"Why did you take her in the bedroom?" He asked, rounding on Sam.

Sam knew that McFly knew full well why she had done that. She stared back at him evenly.

"Mrs Miller, I'm going to escort you to your car. Taylor, _stay put_. I'll be back."

"Bye Sam." Jeannie said with a pained expression as let herself be chivvied out the door.

"Goodbye Jeannie." Sam replied sadly. "Say hi to Rodney for me."

* * *

"You need to tell me what she said."

"You need to pick a side."

Sam sat next to Nate on a park bench – the same one she'd taken Hank to when she had asked for her laptop computer.

"It's not about 'sides' for me." Nate answered. "I got you the phone call with Dr Jackson because you deserved it and I made you a promise. I wasn't siding with you against the government, let alone against this whole _timeline_."

"So you'll make me comfortable in my prison but you won't help me get out of it?"

Nate shifted uncomfortably. "Not unless you are demonstrably rehabilitated."

Sam gave a humourless laugh. "So, there is literally no one, not even someone who calls himself my friend, who believes me about how royally fucked this planet is unless we fix what a goddamn _goa'uld_ did to the timeline?"

"I can be your friend without believing you're right. You need to have more faith in us. You beat this guy in your timeline, right? Well, what makes you think we can't beat him in this one without your help?"

"I'm so tired of answering that question." Sam said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "You already know what I'm going to say."

Nate sighed. "Yes, I do."

Sam stared up at the cloudy sky. "You know they still haven't even figured out how to make it work."

Nate's head whipped around sharply to look at her. "Jeannie Miller told you that."

"Are you really that surprised that I asked?"

"You took her in the bedroom because you know I didn't bug that room. You took advantage of my better nature."

"I was trying to spare you the trouble of having to deny hearing our conversation."

"Well gee, Taylor, how thoughtful of you." Nate said sarcastically. "I would have thought after everything I've done for you …"

"What?" Sam asked, looking at him challengingly. "That out of gratitude I'd just give up? Let Ba'al attack and enslave the planet without even trying to help prevent it?"

"Will you stop that?" Nate snapped. "Let's stop pretending this is some altruistic crusade for you. You want to fix the timeline to get your kid back, not for any other reason."

"You're damn right I want her back!" Sam yelled, standing up furiously. "I want my little girl back, I want my baby boy back, I want my husband back, and I want the world to not go up in flames when the most intelligent and resourceful enemy we have ever known decides to send us all to hell. Is that such a goddamn crime?"

She marched away, heart thumping in her chest and blinded by tears.

* * *

"Hey, Alex?" Sam looked up from an engine to see Kieran hovering, looking nervous.

"What's up?"

"This is really weird, but, a lady stopped me in the street and asked me to give you this."

He gave her a blank envelope, and she opened it and took out the single piece of paper inside. On it was a short typed message.

 _I can't promise results, but I'll try. JM_

Sam leaned against the car and put a hand to her mouth.

"What is it?" Kieran asked curiously.

"Just a message from a friend." Sam said softly, and then shook herself and forced a casual smile for the kid's benefit. "Thanks Kieran."

She had an ally at McMurdo base. _Finally_.

* * *

There was blue jello in her refrigerator.

Sam sighed, disgruntled. Only one person other than herself had access to her apartment, and knew of her fondness for the confection.

This was McFly's doing.

* * *

Next, came a letter from Jeannie. McFly slipped it under her door while she was eating dinner, and she saw him walk away through the peephole.

It was surprisingly uncensored. Jeannie wrote in detail about the theories she and Rodney were working on, to get the stargate operational, and told her about how she had been trying to convince her brother to request Sam's assistance – to no avail, yet.

Sam was shocked. This was the first time Nate had actively gone against the spirit of his orders. Sure, he'd walked the line plenty, even crossed it a time or two for the sake of her own emotional wellbeing, but this was different. This was access to classified information that she absolutely was not permitted to have.

* * *

The flowers, however, were a step too far.

She got home from the garage one evening to find them everywhere, a vase on the dining table, another in the living room, plant pots in the windows, a little bouquet on her nightstand …

"Seriously?" She said to Nate the next day, having walked right up to him in the little abandoned shop front opposite the garage that she knew he lurked in during her working hours.

"Too much?" He said.

" _Way_ too much." Sam said, grimacing. "You had me at the letter from Jeannie."

"So I'm forgiven?"

"I suppose." She sighed. "It's not that I don't understand why you and everyone else are attached to this timeline. And I really do appreciate the letter. I'm assuming you read it first?"

"I did." He said, and shrugged. "I figured it wouldn't hurt for you to at least be kept in the loop. After all, if this Ba'al does show up, we _are_ going to need your help."

"I'm glad you recognise that." Sam said. "But please, no more flowers."

* * *

Late one night in early April, Sam found something that almost had her cheering aloud.

Daniel had left a message for her on the secret NID online message board.

 _Thera, I got a new computer. Can't wait to tell you all about it. Hope you see this, I don't have your new number. Carlin_

She laughed, overjoyed. It was clever of him to use their old 'slave' names from the underground workforce they'd been brainwashed into being part of years before, as this timeline's government would have zero record of that. She wasn't sure what he meant about her 'new number'. Did he think she had a clean phone? Did _he_ have one? Maybe he'd found a way to keep the one he'd used when they'd had the call McFly organised, but she couldn't imagine how he would have managed that.

She typed a message of her own.

 _Carlin – saw your message. Nice job on the computer. My arch-rival beat me to that project I applied for, can you believe that? He'll probably end up hiring me anyway though. Do you have a new number? My phone's dead. Thera_

* * *

It was a week before she got a response, but when she did, it didn't come from the source she was expecting.

 _Thera, good to hear from you, where the hell have you been all this time? You heard from Carlin since your last message? Bad news about the lemon-hater. Shaft_

Shaft! That was Mitchell! She honestly hadn't thought Cam would know about the old NID secret message-passing system, and wouldn't even have expected him to know her and Daniel's short-lived slave names, but clearly she hadn't given him enough credit.

He had read every single SG-1 mission report, after all. She felt a little stupid for not trying to contact him on the message board sooner.

 _Shaft – not heard back from Carlin, although it's great to hear from you! Didn't expect to see you here, sorry. Saw lemon-hater's sister a little while back. She writes me sometimes. Spoke to Carlin on the phone once too, for a couple minutes. You ok? Thera_

* * *

After that, messages came in sporadically, sometimes several in a week, sometimes nothing for a couple of weeks running. Cam was more predictable than Daniel, but apparently Daniel found it more difficult to get a chance to contact them. Sam guessed Daniel probably didn't have a laptop in his home the way Sam herself did, but she didn't know for sure. They kept their messages as circumspect as possible, just in case they were spotted by the wrong person.

 _Thera, I'm ok. More worried about you and Carlin. Glad to hear you talked to him. How did you manage that? Can the sister help to get you on the project? Shaft_

 _Thera & Shaft, sorry for late reply, my internet access is spotty. Cell coverage is good though, can either of you get me a number? Thera, work the sister angle, sounds like our best bet. Carlin_

 _No number, Carlin. Working on it though. Communication is one-way from sister so far – again, working on it. Have a friend who might help, but he's a tough nut to crack. Shaft – I'm ok, glad to have you back. Thera_

 _No cell coverage here either Carlin. How's the leg? Thera, who's the friend? Shaft_

 _Friend works for 'them'. He cares about me, but drinks the company kool aid. Amazed I even got him delivering messages from sister. Sister too is a reluctant helper, she's worried about getting in trouble. Also lemon-hater is an ex. Awkward. Thera_

 _An ex? You dated lemon-hater? Shaft_

 _What can I say? I clearly took temporary leave of my senses. It was another life. Don't judge. Thera_

 _Leg is improving. Mostly walking without stick now. Not gonna be running any marathons any time soon though … Maybe lemon boy being an ex isn't a bad thing. Might make him sympathetic. Carlin_

 _Sister's working on lemon-boy, but no progress so far. Worried they might manage without us. Thera_

 _Have to hope they don't. Anyone have any other ideas for how we get in? Shaft_

 _Maybe they'd call us in when Darth Vader turns up. Carlin_

' _Darth Vader'? Really? And yeah, they'd probably call us then, but wouldn't that be too late? Shaft_

 _Depends whether they let us use the thing. All we need is to use it, after that we'd be free to do what we've got to do. Thera_

 _So those are our options? Hope your ex hires you, or wait for Vader? Shaft_

 _Unless anyone's got a better idea. Thera_

 _Can't exactly break in. It's chilly down there. Carlin_

 _Don't know about you guys, but I'd have trouble travelling out of town. Thera_

 _Same here. Big time. Carlin_

 _I probably could. Don't want to risk it though, if there's a chance they might call us back. Shaft_

 _Stay put, Shaft. You're right, way too much of a risk. I'll keep working on friend, hopefully open two-way communication with sister or ex. I'll keep you posted. Thera_

* * *

On a warm day in May, Sam went to work with a smile on her face. She'd been up late exchanging messages with Daniel and Cameron, and had had a letter from Jeannie that suggested McKay might be considering requesting Sam and Daniel's help.

Things were looking up. She was hopeful that soon, they'd make some progress. Plus, it was her birthday.

However, when she got to the garage, she felt a familiar tingling urge to reach for a weapon – a feeling she hadn't felt in a while. Something wasn't right. It was too still, too quiet.

She looked across the road to McFly's abandoned shop-front, but there was no sign of him either. She walked cautiously up to the reception area door, and opened the door, taking care not to present a profile in the window and scanning the room in an efficient, practiced move. Empty. That alone was weird, either Hank or Kieran should have been in there.

On alert and increasingly alarmed, she proceeded onwards to the garage floor, which similarly looked dark and deserted. Where was everybody? What had happened?

She'd taken a few short steps into the main garage area, when she heard a noise behind her and felt the air move. A large man was approaching rapidly. She reacted, spinning and seizing him by the arm, using his forward momentum to throw him over her shoulder and straight to the ground.

"Surprise!" The lights turned on in the same instant, and she looked up, startled and confused, as Hank and Kieran jumped up from behind an SUV in the service bay.

"Ow." The strangled complaint made her look down at the man lying prone at her feet, and she groaned. It was McFly.

"What the hell …?" Hank said, frowning as he rounded the SUV and approached them.

"God, Nate, what the hell were you thinking?" Sam said, dropping to her knees beside him. "I could have killed you. What if I'd been armed?"

"You're not allowed to be armed." He said, coughing as he sat up.

"What happened?" Hank demanded.

"He surprised me." Sam said lamely.

"That was the point." Nate said. "It's a surprise party."

"I see that now." Sam sighed. "But seriously, you should know better than to creep up on me like that. I thought something was wrong, and that you were an attacker."

"Oh Jesus …" Hank breathed. "Kieran, go fetch the first aid kit."

"That's not necessary, I'm fine." Nate said, getting to his feet stiffly with Sam's hand at his elbow.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"I'm sure." He patted her hand away. "Nothing damaged but my pride, I swear."

"She just tossed you like a sack of potatoes." Kieran teased, looking at Sam with newfound respect. "You gotta teach me how to do that."

She gave an embarrassed smile.

"Happy birthday." Nate said, handing her a squashed paper party hat that she realised had been in his hand.

"Thanks." She took it awkwardly. "So … this is a surprise birthday party? For me?"

"Yup. Hank and I thought it would be good for you." Nate confirmed.

"Since when do you two talk?" She asked.

"We don't." Hank said. "But, Nate here approached me about throwing you a party, and I thought it was a good idea."

"Hank baked you a cake." Kieran informed her, pointing to the table behind her.

"Wow. I don't know what to say. Thanks guys."

Nate patted her shoulder. "Just never do that again, and I'll consider it thanks enough."

She chuckled weakly. "No promises."

* * *

The party was great. It wasn't much, just cake, presents, her three friends, and an easy-going atmosphere during the work that needed to be done in the garage that day. Nate even stayed and learned a little from her about mechanical engineering, while Kieran never tired of teasing him about being 'beaten up by a girl'.

Hank and Nate took her out for dinner after work, and then Nate walked her home.

"Am I forgiven yet?" Sam asked, after a few moments of silence as they approached her apartment building.

Nate looked at her askance, clearly confused, before he realised she was talking about the incident that morning and he laughed.

"You're forgiven." He said, nudging her elbow. "It is your birthday, after all."

"You know, officially, it's not." She commented idly. "On those false ID documents the government gave me, it says Alexandra Taylor's birthday is September 17th."

"Yeah, but … today's your real birthday."

"You're not worried about anyone thinking it's odd that a woman who looks exactly like Samantha Carter is celebrating Samantha Carter's birthday?"

"Nope." He said simply.

She smiled at that. "You're a puzzle, McFly."

"That's why you like me." He said, smirking.

"Who said I like you?"

"Nobody. But you do."

They reached her building, and he walked her up to her door.

"Listen," he said as they reached the door, "I made a decision. Write a letter to Jeannie Miller, and I'll find a way to deliver it for you."

Sam closed her eyes briefly, and put a hand on his forearm, squeezing. "Thank you."

He smiled at her softly. "Don't mention it."

He looked at her for a long moment, so long that Sam started to frown, worried about what he could be thinking.

And then …

… he leaned in to kiss her …

… and she gasped and took a big step backward, away from him.

"What are you doing?" She hissed.

"Uh …" He looked startled, and hurt.

"Nate, you've been a good friend to me, but I don't feel that way about you." She said, trying to sound kind but firm.

"I just … I'm sorry. I should go."

"Nate …"

"Write that letter to Jeannie. I'll pick it up tomorrow." He said, retreating down the corridor.

She watched him go, sighing, and then let herself into her apartment.

She didn't sleep that night, but lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Jack.

* * *

In the morning, with the letter to Jeannie folded in the back pocket of her jeans, Sam resolved to clear the air with Nate. She intended to sit him down, and explain carefully and kindly that she appreciated everything he had done for her, and she considered him a good friend, but they could never have that kind of relationship. Her heart would always belong to Jack O'Neill.

The sharp knock on the door came earlier than she was expecting, and she was hurriedly braiding her hair in a tail down her back as she crossed to the front door.

"Hang on." She called, tying off the braid quickly and then opening the door.

She gasped, audibly. Because standing in front of her was not Nate 'McFly' Harrison, but none other than NID agent Malcolm Barrett.

"Ms Taylor. My name is Agent Barrett. I'm your new handler."

"What?" She blurted out.

"Agent Nathan Harrison has been re-assigned. I've replaced him."

"But why?"

"There was some concern he was getting emotionally involved and losing his objectivity." Barrett said, pushing past her into the apartment, and looking around. "There have also been some disturbing allegations that he has had contact with personnel at McMurdo that he had no reason to communicate with … I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

The letter to Jeannie was burning a hole in her pocket. "No, no I don't."

 _Crap._


	6. Chapter 6 - Summer

**Chapter 6 – Summer**

She didn't dare waste any time. The very same morning that Agent Malcolm Barrett presented himself as her new handler, Sam smuggled her contraband laptop to the garage and hid it in the store room. It wasn't safe in her apartment anymore, not when Barrett could come and go as he pleased. But Sam figured he was less likely to trespass on Hank's private property than he was to let himself into her apartment for a spot inspection.

Under the cover of doing a stock check in the middle of the day, she logged onto the message boards she used to communicate with Daniel and Cameron. They'd not left any new messages since the night before her birthday, but she left one of her own.

 _Carlin, Shaft: Things have gone FUBAR. My helpful friend got fired. Have to be careful now, lay low and re-assess. I'll let you know when I know more. Thera_

She sighed, and stood from the packing crate she was perched on to slide the laptop back into its hiding place. She had just picked up her clipboard again when the door abruptly opened, making her jump.

"Sorry Alex, didn't mean to scare you." Kieran said with a smile. "Just wanted to ask if you need a hand?"

"I'm good thanks, Kieran." Sam said, forcing a smile. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Ok."

His eyes slid towards the crate where she'd hidden the laptop, and Sam tensed. He hadn't seen her – had he?

"It was pretty cool having your friend Nate around yesterday." Kieran commented. "Do you think he'll come back again sometime?"

"I don't know, he's a busy guy." Sam said with a grimace.

"Will you let me know if he does? There was something I was going to show him and I didn't get the chance."

"Sure." Sam nodded and turned away under the guise of her stock check.

"Thanks."

She heard Kieran close the door behind him as he left, and Sam sighed and put the clipboard down, rubbing her hand over her eyes. Her pulse was racing, and she felt like an idiot. She was so on edge from Barrett's appearance that morning and the urgency of hiding away the laptop, that even a harmless conversation with Kieran, an innocent kid, had her growing paranoid and defensive.

"Get it together, Carter." She muttered to herself, and shook her head and picked up the clipboard.

After a moment, she paused, looking at the crate where the laptop was hidden, and glanced speculatively at the store room door. Then, with a burst of silent speed - and an internal diatribe over how ridiculously paranoid she was being - she retrieved the laptop and hid it at the back of a filing cabinet on the other side of the room instead.

* * *

Sam sat calmly on her couch, watching the clock. It had been eleven minutes and twenty seconds since she had ripped the newly installed video and audio bugs out of their hiding places in her bedroom, and the ruined devices now sat in pieces on the coffee table in front of her.

Moments ago she had heard the building's elevator whir into motion, and she was certain that was Agent Barrett on his way up. She had a private bet with herself about whether he would knock on the door or just let himself in.

He knocked. But he also yelled.

"Ms Taylor, open the door!"

She opened the door. "In a civilised society knocking is sufficient, you don't need to shout as well. But then I'm guessing a man who secretly puts surveillance equipment in a woman's bedroom doesn't have all that much familiarity with civilised behaviour."

Barrett had the decency to look embarrassed, but he also huffed with annoyance. He pushed past her into the apartment and shut the door. "Maybe if you hadn't used that room to subvert our surveillance in the past it wouldn't have been necessary." He said accusatorily.

With an effort Sam kept her expression neutral, but inside she panicked. Did he know about the laptop?

"What are you talking about?" She asked.

"Jeannie Miller? She came for a little unauthorised visit a while back and you took her in the bedroom so you could talk without us being able to monitor your conversation."

 _Jeannie. Of course_. "I was trying to protect her from getting into trouble, but it's not my fault she turned up out of the blue."

"Still, you demonstrated that you were aware both that there was surveillance in the rest of the apartment, and that there wasn't any in the bedroom. I can't have you using that knowledge to subvert our surveillance or get around any of the ground rules of your release."

Sam stared at him. " _Release_?"

"From the custody of the federal government." He clarified. "You were released into the population to live out your life in freedom, on the condition that you abide by the terms of release."

Sam laughed. "You can't be serious. You're calling this freedom? I'm a prisoner! I'm barely allowed out in public and the 'federal government' put a _camera_ in my fucking _bedroom_!"

"Those rules protect you as much as anyone." Barrett said, irritatingly calm in the face of her anger. "If the media got wind of your existence you would be hounded by the paparazzi, and we'd have to move you to a secure facility."

"Fine, if you want me in a secure facility, how about McMurdo? I'll pack my bags now." She retorted sarcastically.

Barrett actually flinched. "What do you know about McMurdo?"

Sam sighed, and then smiled. "I love the cold. I'm a sucker for all that ice and snow." She knew he'd understand from her transparent lie that she wasn't going to say anything further about it.

Barrett shook his head and paced the room. "Maybe if you were a little more co-operative and a little less openly hostile towards us, we wouldn't find it necessary to keep you on such a tight leash."

"Have you considered that maybe I'm only hostile because I just caught you bugging my bedroom? I thought you had more class than that, Malcolm."

Barrett raised an eyebrow at her. "That's 'Agent Barrett' to you."

It was a little punch to the gut. One more friend she'd lost. "Right." She said quietly.

"Did you know me? In the other timeline?" Barrett asked, curious despite himself.

"We were friends." Sam told him. "We trusted each other."

He nodded, and said nothing. He scooped up the remains of his surveillance gadgets from the coffee table and put them in his pockets.

"I'll be back to re-install those." He said. "I'd recommend dressing in the bathroom from now on."

"You're not going to bug the bathroom too?" She asked bitingly.

"Not with video." He said, and Sam rolled her eyes at the implication that there was an audio bug in there.

"And Taylor?" He said, turning back to her at the apartment's front door. "Maybe we were friends in your timeline; but in this timeline, you're a threat to the security of this nation, and I will do everything in my power to keep you in line."

* * *

"Are you alright, hon?" Hank said to Sam in an undertone a few days later as they stood side by side looking under the hood of a Toyota.

"I'm fine." Sam answered.

"Is that _actually_ fine, or 'Sam' fine?" Hank asked.

Sam winced. "Am I that transparent?"

"We've spent almost every day together for the last nine months. Let's just say I'm familiar with your stoic 'way of the warrior' routine."

She gave him a complicated look. "I used to accuse an old friend of mine of doing that. It drove me nuts sometimes."

Hank smiled and spread his hands. "So …?"

Sam twisted her hands nervously. "Not here. Can I come by your place later?"

"Sure you can." Hank said, looking worried. "Anytime."

* * *

"You know, usually I like to buy a woman dinner before she strip-searches me and ransacks my apartment." Hank said wryly as Sam turned the stereo on loud and sat down beside him on the couch with an exhausted sigh. She had checked his clothing, and searched his apartment top to bottom, but thankfully had come up empty.

"I'm sorry Hank, I had to be sure he hadn't bugged you." Sam explained. "The closed curtains and music should block the use of any parabolic microphones, so I think we can talk now."

"Jesus, Sam, what the hell's going on? I thought you and Nate were getting on alright these days?"

Sam sighed. "Nate's been replaced, and his replacement is very strict about the rules I'm supposed to follow. It's making life a little difficult."

"Damn." He swore. "What happened to Nate?"

"I don't know. They said he's been 're-assigned' but that there were some allegations against him … honestly I have no idea if he's just been transferred or if he's sitting in a jail cell somewhere."

"What kind of allegations?" Hank asked, sounding concerned.

"He was helping me." Sam admitted softly. "I convinced him to pass messages between me and someone inside the government program that this whole thing is about, and somehow he got caught, or someone suspected him … I don't know, the new guy isn't big on telling me things."

"You know, I had the impression he was a little sweet on you."

"I think he was." Sam said, her voice laced with regret. "He tried to kiss me, when he walked me home after my birthday dinner."

"What did you do?"

"I rejected him." Sam said, pulling at a thread on her sleeve with more force than was strictly necessary. "I told him I didn't see him as anything more than a friend."

"Ouch."

"I was going to try and talk it through with him, when he came round the next morning, but that's when they replaced him. The new guy showed up in his place."

"That was two weeks ago – this has been going on since your birthday?" Hank asked.

She nodded. "And that laptop you got for me is hidden in the garage store room, by the way."

Hank chuckled. "I thought you'd been going in there more lately."

"The new guy performs spot checks of my apartment at random. It wasn't safe there anymore."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." She said with a sigh. "Well, actually yes. I need you to be really careful. Don't call me Sam anymore, ever, and try to treat me as though I really am just Alex Taylor the mechanic. I can't have the new guy suspecting that you know anything about any of this."

"Does the new guy have a name?"

"Yes, but I think it's better that you don't know it." She said, with an apologetic look.

Hank rolled his eyes. "Alright. But if there's anything more that I can do to help, anything at all, you just say the word, got it?"

"Thanks Hank." Sam squeezed his hand. "You're a good friend."

* * *

 _Thera, got a sitrep? Shaft_

 _Thera, what's going on? Are you ok? Carlin_

 _Thera, report. Shaft_

 _Shaft, can you get a phone? We need to talk about this. Carlin_

 _Can't figure a way to get hold of one without them seeing. How did you do it Carlin? Shaft_

 _I managed to keep the one Thera's friend got me, the one we used to talk that one time, although I gather she didn't get to keep hers. Really worried about her. Carlin_

 _Carlin & Shaft: Hey guys, sorry for the comms blackout. My friend's replacement is strict on the rules, and watching me closely, I was concerned about getting caught. Not sure if 'they' have found out about my communications with ex's sister or not, but they might have. Do you remember the James Bond type who got brainwashed by the Trust? He's the replacement for my friend. Thera_

 _Thera, you mean the one who kept hitting on you? Damn, small world. Can you still monitor their activities? Shaft_

 _Thera, so glad to hear from you. Are you alright? That guy's not so bad, can you talk him round? Carlin_

 _Thera, you there? These long silences are worrying. Shaft_

 _Carlin, you are being extra careful too now, right? I mean, if they're watching Thera more closely, it stands to reason they're watching us more too. Shaft_

 _I know Shaft, I'm being careful. Not quite as careful as Thera though, apparently. If she can't even get the freedom to send us a quick message I can't imagine she's able to watch them anymore. Carlin_

 _Yeah Carlin, I think you're right. Don't suppose you've been hiding any hacking talents, have you? Shaft_

 _Sadly no, Shaft. Carlin_

 _Carlin & Shaft: Hi guys, sorry about the long delay. Had to move my computer out of my apartment, and it's difficult to get access to this at a time when I'm certain there's no chance of getting caught. I'm worried our apprentice is an agent, planted to keep tabs on me. Probably being paranoid, but I have to be careful just in case. I'm trying, but I'm not hopeful that James Bond can be talked round to my way of thinking. He thinks I'm the enemy and he doesn't trust me. Also, you surmised correctly that I can't keep tabs on 'them' anymore … takes way too long to get in to do that, I can't risk it at the moment. I'm sorry. I'll let you know if that changes or if I make any progress with Bond, but right now my hands are tied. Thera_

 _Fuck. Carlin_

 _Couldn't have put it better myself, Carlin. Shaft_

* * *

Sam stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, breathing deeply and trying to bolster her courage. She was wearing more make-up than usual, had carefully styled her dark brunette hair into what she hoped resembled effortless femininity, and had foregone her standard worn jeans and shirt wardrobe for a cashmere cardigan and pretty top over a grey knee-length skirt and strappy sandals.

She was on a mission. Malcolm Barrett was due any minute for an inspection.

And all she wanted to do was throw up.

 _You're doing this for the cause._ She reminded herself. _I need to restore the timeline, and to do that I could really use Barrett's help._

She just couldn't quite believe she was seriously contemplating using flirtation and feminine wiles to do it. She knew that in her own original timeline, Malcolm Barrett had had something of a crush on her, and there was no reason to suppose that this Malcolm Barrett was fundamentally any different. Nate Harrison had helped her because he liked her … maybe Barrett would do the same.

It was a god-awful plan, but it was the only one she had.

The knock on the door made her jump, and she shot one last panicked look at her own reflection in the mirror, before smoothing her hands over her skirt and heading for the door.

"Good evening Ms Taylor." Agent Barrett greeted her. If his eyes lingered at all over her appearance, it was too quick for Sam to spot.

"Inspection time?" Sam said by way of greeting as she opened the door wider for him to enter.

The inspection didn't take too long – her apartment was small – and it wasn't long before Barrett was sitting at her table ticking boxes on his checklist.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked pleasantly. "Coffee, tea …?"

"Just water please."

She fetched a bottle from the fridge, remembering with a sudden pang of nostalgia the time when they'd shared bottles of water in a motel room, after getting almost blown up together on a joint operation. He'd rolled over to cover her when they'd landed a short distance away from the blast, a chivalrous gesture that had annoyed her greatly at the time. Now she wished this Barrett would show a shred of that concern for her welfare.

"How am I doing?" She asked, sitting down next to him as he bent over his paperwork.

"You haven't made any serious infractions lately." He allowed, glancing up at her briefly. "Given the latitude that Agent Harrison was allowing you, an adjustment period was to be expected."

"I _am_ trying." She said, injecting a soft earnestness into her tone.

"I can appreciate that." He looked at her then, his eyes taking in her attire, and her posture, sitting close and turned towards him as though to look over the paperwork with him, and he frowned. "What are you doing?"

Sam blinked, sitting back a little. "I thought we were about to go over the inspection results."

"You're dressed up."

She chuckled nervously. "Just because I'm wearing a skirt doesn't mean I'm 'dressed up'."

"Are you going somewhere? You haven't cleared anything with me."

Sam rolled her eyes, exasperated. "No, I'm not going anywhere. I have no plans tonight other than sitting here with you."

He regarded her speculatively for a long moment, but evidently decided not to push it. "Well, I'm pleased to say I've not found any contraband in the apartment in the entire time I've been your handler, and since that unfortunate incident with the bedroom camera, I've not seen anything that would warrant concern."

"Is there any chance of that camera coming down soon?" She asked.

"Maybe. If you continue to co-operate."

She gave him a warm smile. "I'll make sure to do that."

He looked a little unnerved, which wasn't exactly the effect she was going for. "I'd like you to start wearing your glasses again."

Sam blinked in surprise. "What? Really?"

"I know you had some sort of agreement with Agent Harrison whereby if you dyed your hair dark you wouldn't have to wear them, but I'm afraid I have to enforce the original rule. I'm concerned that anyone whose suspicions were already raised – and there are plenty of conspiracy theorists out there – will not be fooled by a box of hair-dye."

"If you think it's necessary." Sam said, forcing herself to smile pleasantly rather than arguing as she yearned to do.

Barrett looked a little surprised, and chuckled. "What, no arguments? Agent Harrison's reports indicated you fought him every step of the way on those glasses."

"And look where that got me." She said, adopting a rueful expression. "It's just a pair of glasses, and I want to prove that I'm willing to co-operate. I want to earn your trust." She looked into his eyes earnestly as she said that, and reached out to squeeze his forearm for emphasis, before pulling away and standing up.

"Are you hungry?" She asked. "I'm not much of a cook but there are some really good take-out places around here."

Barrett didn't answer, and she looked back at him to see him leaning back in his chair and staring at her.

"It's not going to work, Ms Taylor." He said eventually.

 _Crap._ "What?" She said, feigning innocence.

"This girl-next-door, butter-wouldn't-melt routine you've got going. Harrison might have been a soft touch but I'm not going to fall for it."

"I don't know what you're implying, Agent …"

"You're trying to make me feel sorry for you, or make friends with me, or maybe even seduce me, I'm not sure. But whatever your game is, you can stop. I know all about your agenda, and I know that even after all this time you'd do anything to pursue it."

Sam sagged a little. "I'm not trying to seduce you." She said. "But can you blame me for trying to earn some trust? Agent Harrison and I had a good arrangement, I didn't break any major rules and he gave me a little room to live my life, and it worked because we were friends, almost, and we trusted each other."

She sighed, and this time she didn't have to fake the earnest expression. "It was the same way you and I used to trust each other, actually, before the timeline changed. Is it so wrong to want my friend Malcolm back?"

"If that was all it was, why all the effort on your appearance?" He asked, standing up. "I've been your handler for weeks now, and I've never seen you wear anything but jeans, let alone that much make-up and whatever it is you've done to your hair."

Sam shifted awkwardly and said nothing.

"Was there something between us, in the original timeline?" Barrett asked, taking a few steps towards her. "I'll admit I find you attractive, and if we knew each other before then I'm willing to bet that you knew that about me. Were you trying to fan my flame, and use it against me?"

She didn't know what to say, because yes, that was exactly what she was trying to do. And she felt just as sick about it now as she had before he'd arrived.

"I just … I needed us to have a better relationship." She said, defeated. "Something less like parole officer and ex-con and more like the friendship we had before."

Barrett shook his head. "You're unbelievable. No wonder Nate Harrison got compromised. You were probably screwing him to get him to look the other way while you violated the rules."

She felt like he'd slapped her, and red-hot rage swelled in her belly. "It wasn't like that." She hissed.

He looked at her for a long moment and then chuckled humourlessly. "You know what? I believe you. I think the poor sucker actually honestly liked you for who you were. But rest assured, Ms Taylor, I won't be making the same mistake. I'm here to do a job, and I don't care if you turn into Mother Teresa or parade in front of me butt naked, nothing you say or do is going to distract me from my purpose here."

She crossed her arms and looked at him coldly. "Fine. Was there anything else you needed to talk about tonight?"

"I think we're done here." He said, gathering his paperwork into a folder and tucking it into his briefcase. "Goodnight Ms Taylor."

She stood in the same spot, arms crossed and fuming, as he swept past her out of the apartment, practically slamming the door behind him. A full minute after he'd left, she sagged, wrapped her arms around her stomach, sat down heavily on the couch, and tried not to cry, mindful of the video cameras cataloguing her every move.

* * *

"Where did you find Kieran?" Sam asked Hank over coffee one day, with an effort to sound casual.

"I put an ad in the window of the convenience store on Main Street." Hank said around a bite of brownie. "He saw it and called me up."

"Huh." She swirled the dregs of coffee around her cup. She knew it was probably paranoia, but she was growing increasingly suspicious that the young apprentice was more than he appeared. He'd been paying a lot of attention to her – attention she'd previously dismissed as a harmless crush or a charming youthful eagerness to learn his craft. More recently, he'd been asking after Nate. Had she heard from him, how did they meet, was he her boyfriend, would he be coming back some time …? Maybe it was just friendly interest, but it had her on guard.

And then there was the laptop in the store room. It was gone. Two days previously, she'd gone to check on it – not even to boot it up and use it, just to check it was still there, as she did periodically – and she found it missing from where she'd hidden it in a dark corner under a pile of outdated order catalogues.

Hank swore it wasn't him, and she trusted Hank implicitly. Agent Barrett had given no indication that he'd found it or taken it, and she was certain he would have confronted her if he had. That left just Kieran – and the young man did have a habit of following her into the store room anytime she was in there for more than a few minutes.

"He's turning out to be a real great find." Hank said happily. "Don't you think? He's so enthusiastic."

"He's definitely keen." Sam agreed lightly. "Maybe more keen than you'd expect, for this kind of work."

Hank gave her a weird look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just, that most kids his age wouldn't show this much enthusiasm for anything, much less mechanic work. And he's never really struck me as the type to want to end up working in a garage."

"Well maybe he's not planning on ending up in a garage. Maybe he's gonna go to school eventually, study engineering or summat'." Hank argued. "What do you care, anyway? You usually barely show any interest in your own future, never mind anyone else's."

Sam shrugged. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."

Hank shot her concerned looks over his coffee for the next few minutes, and then finally set down his cup and leaned towards her to whisper.

"You not suggesting that there's something … fishy … about him are you?"

"No. I don't know, probably not. There's just something about him that's been nagging at me, lately. I'm probably just paranoid."

Hank blew out a long breath, looking harried. "I'm too old for all this goddamn intrigue, honey."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." Sam said, squeezing his hand. "Seriously, forget I brought it up. If there's a problem, I'll handle it, and if not, then there's nothing to be concerned about."

"It's just … it's _Kieran_. He's as sweet and innocent as they come."

Sam smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about it Hank. Really."

* * *

On a warm morning in early July, Hank arrived at the garage looking nervous but determined, red-faced and sweating. He strode straight past Sam with a curt 'Come with me', and led her into the store room.

Sam watched him with trepidation as he knelt to open his shoulder bag, suspecting as she did that the store room wasn't as safe from prying eyes as she had once hoped.

"Hank, what is it?"

"I have something for you." He whispered urgently, rummaging in his bag.

Sam looked around, as though expecting someone to jump out from behind a shelving unit. "What?" She whispered back.

He suddenly yanked his hand out of the bag, and thrust a crumpled envelope at Sam.

"Here."

Sam turned it over in her hands. It was a letter, post-marked from Germany, and addressed to Hank.

"What's this?"

"It's for you, I guess he couldn't send it to you direct. I didn't read it."

"Who?"

" _Nate_."

Sam's eyes widened. "Nate sent you this? For me?"

"Yes. Don't open it here!" He hissed as she started to pull out the piece of paper within. "Take it somewhere else, one of your safe-spots or rainy park benches or whatever. Not in my garage."

Sam shook her head. "I don't have anywhere safe anymore Hank."

"Well I don't want it in here. I feel like some shady government agent is going to jump out and arrest me or make me disappear never to be heard from again."

"Can you just put it back in your bag for now and take it home with you? I'll come round tonight to read it and after that you can burn it." Sam pleaded.

Hank huffed. "Fine! But I hope you appreciate what this is doing to my blood pressure."

Sam kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you Hank. I don't deserve you."

He grumbled as he stuffed it back in his bag and left the store room, and she looked after him fondly for a moment before following.

* * *

 _Dear Taylor … alright, 'Sam'_

 _As I'm sure you've been informed, I have been re-assigned, abruptly and without warning. I know the timing was terrible, and I don't like the way we left things, but I'm afraid I wasn't given the option of saying goodbye. I hope you didn't think that my leaving had anything to do with our last conversation. It certainly wasn't my choice to go._

 _I can't tell you what I'm doing or where I'm doing it, but I want you to know that I'm ok. I'm sure you may have been worried that my superiors had found out about the rules I had broken for you. For sure they have their suspicions – that was why I was replaced – but they don't have evidence, so I've kept my job with just a warning._

 _Sam, I need to warn you about my replacement. He's not a bad guy, but he won't take your side, not ever. He considers himself a patriot, and he sees things in black and white. He'll follow the rules to the letter, and he'll hold you to them too. Don't cross him. Don't give him a reason to have you relocated, or worse. You don't know how much I did to protect you, when I was in his position. Please don't take any risks. I know that may be a futile request._

 _Finally, Sam, I have to come clean. That night, after your birthday party, when I tried to kiss you, I did it because I'm in love with you. I have been for a while. I didn't really think that you felt the same way, but I admit I had been hoping that maybe you would, one day. I had thought that our relationship was changing, and that you were starting to see me differently. I realise now that it was wishful thinking, on my part, and I don't blame you. I know you had a family of your own before the incident that stranded you here, and of course I know that you still miss them terribly, and it wasn't fair to expect you to have moved on so soon. I hope you don't think badly of me. What I did, I only did in the heat of the moment, drunk on laughter and good feeling, because I love you. It wasn't planned._

 _We'll likely never see each other again. I will miss you. Please stay safe, or if you can't do that, at least be careful._

 _Your McFly_

* * *

Sam folded the letter in half, and handed it back to Hank, feeling shell-shocked.

Hank took out a lighter and opened it, holding the flame an inch from the paper, looking at Sam with raised eyebrows. She nodded. He touched the flame to the paper, and when it was lit, dropped the burning paper into an empty trash can, letting it smoulder into ash.

"What did it say?" Hank asked over the noise of the stereo, face highlighted by the small flames in the darkness of his curtained living room.

"He said he was in love with me." Sam said numbly.

Hank raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Makes sense."

"Does it?"

He shrugged. "He did stuff for you that he wasn't supposed to, right? Broke rules? Sounds like the kind of thing you do for someone you love."

"I was always arguing with him."

"Some guys like a strong woman." Hank said, winking conspiratorially.

Sam chuckled. "I just can't believe I didn't see it."

"Maybe you just didn't want to see it. I mean, you didn't feel the same way, did you?"

"No." Sam said. But, she thought, staring at her clasped hands, she didn't feel _nothing_ for him. It might not have been love, exactly, but she certainly wasn't devoid of feelings for Nate, and that thought was very uncomfortable to sit with, even though he was gone now. Maybe even _especially_ because he was gone now.

"Did he say anything else?" Hank asked.

"Just that I should be careful." Sam said, shaking her head.

"Well, I think you've got that covered." Hank said, gesturing around them. "Although, I'm going to start getting noise complaints from my neighbours if we do this too often."

As if on cue, the stereo was suddenly drowned out by the even louder blaring of Hank's smoke alarm, as the trash-can fire burnt itself out and bloomed into curling smoke. Hank swore and jumped up, seizing a towel and flapping it at the smoke detector to clear the air, while Sam took the smoking can and doused it in water in the kitchen sink.

Later, Sam convinced Hank to give her an hour on his computer. She took some time to check it for tracking software or any sort of monitoring or hack first, and then checked on the message boards she used to contact Daniel and Cam. She was alarmed to read that they were both getting antsy, with Daniel trying to convince Cameron to risk getting hold of a phone, and Cameron talking about making a run for it again.

She typed out a quick message trying to calm them both down. She had nothing of substance to report herself, as she'd made a disappointing lack of progress since her last message. But, she felt that their best bet for the moment was still to wait it out, and hope that one way or another, their expertise would eventually be required by the Navy's stargate program at McMurdo base.

* * *

It was a long summer, made longer still by the lack of freedom. Agent Barrett remained unwaveringly cold towards Sam, and watched her like a hawk, so she daren't ever spend more than an hour at Hank's on his computer once every couple of weeks.

Her suspicion of Kieran lessened somewhat in time, as she recognised her paranoia for what it was. Sam didn't let her guard down around him, but she became increasingly confident that he was nothing more than what he seemed – a sweet, if overly enthusiastic, kid.

The routine of her everyday life had become so wretchedly monotonous, that when something finally happened in her favour, she was taken entirely off-guard and almost gave herself away to the surveillance cameras watching her in the apartment.

Sam rarely used the decrepit old computer she'd been supplied with in her apartment, knowing as she did that it was monitored. She mostly just used it for light entertainment and to follow the news. But when she turned it on one evening after a long day at the garage, she was startled to see she'd been hacked, and the hacker had left her a message.

 _Sam – I've temporarily scrambled the tracking software on this computer, but it won't last long so don't go doing anything stupid. Meet me at Kerrigan's bar on Sunday night, 23:30. I'll be the dashing man at the corner table. Make sure you're not followed. Rodney_

Sam all but whooped, failed to smother a grin and wrapped her arms around herself tightly to keep from jumping out of her chair.

 _God bless you McKay_ , she thought.

* * *

Getting out of the apartment on Sunday night without being seen was quite the challenge. Having previously taken down the camera in her bedroom, she knew it wasn't equipped with night-vision software, but that didn't preclude it from picking up the vague outline of her moving around in the dark. With the streetlights outside, it was far from pitch-black in her bedroom at night.

It wasn't glamorous, but her solution was to fake a case of food poisoning, giving her a reason to spend the night in the bathroom. The bathroom had audio surveillance, but not video, so having spent the day putting on an Oscar-worthy performance around the rest of the apartment, by nightfall she had confined herself to the bathroom. Hank had helped her obtain and set up a tape recorder, with the pre-recorded sounds of her supposedly having a wretched night of disturbed sleep and gastrointestinal pyrotechnics. She set about making it clear she intended to stay put in that room for the night, and set the tape playing.

Then, she climbed out the window.

She was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a black hoody, and for once was grateful for her darker hair in that it wasn't necessary to cover it the way it would once have been. She shimmied along the wall, toes dug into the precious little purchase of the decorative brickwork dividing the stories of the building, until she reached the fire escape and climbed over the railing with no small measure of relief.

Of course, if she was going to get spotted, this was probably the moment it would happen, so she ran as silently as possible down the fire escape, praying that Barrett didn't have surveillance set up to watch it. Once down, she kept to the shadows, quickly skirting around the building and making her way down the block, head bowed and hood up. The bar was a twenty minute walk away, and she kept to back roads, away from street lights or CCTV cameras.

Her body was thrumming with excitement by the time she reached Kerrigan's. It was a grubby, hole-in-the-wall kind of bar, dark and depressing, and at this hour there wasn't a soul inside who could claim sobriety. Except, she hoped, for the person she was desperately looking forward to seeing there.

Inside, she tried to look inconspicuous as she weaved her way between bodies to reach the back corner. Then, she smiled wide enough to light up the room.

" _Rodney_!" She exclaimed, and threw her arms around his neck as he stood to greet her.

"Uh … hey." He said awkwardly, patting her back.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you." She gushed, sitting down beside him, facing side-on to the door so she could keep relatively hidden while still keeping an eye out.

"Yes, well, it's uh, it's good to see you too. A little weird, but … good."

Sam grimaced. This wasn't the first time she'd been faced with a Rodney McKay who had been romantically involved with another Samantha Carter who was now deceased.

 _Holy Hannah my life is weird._

"I've got to say, though, I'm not a fan of the hair. I was always kind of fond of the blonde." He said, frowning at her head. Sam rolled her eyes.

"I'm trying to keep a low profile. Your ex-girlfriend was a little too famous for me to go around looking _too_ much like her."

"Right." He nodded. "You – she always hated that. The fame, and the media attention. I used to be so jealous."

He sounded wistful, and Sam felt for him.

"So what's going on?" She asked. "Not that I'm not thrilled that you're here, but I'm assuming you wouldn't take the risk unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, uh, listen. I know you and Jeannie had some contact, and she got herself into a bit of trouble for it –"

"Is she ok?" Sam cut in. She would feel awful if anything had happened to Jeannie because of her.

"She's fine, she's fine." McKay said, waving his hands impatiently. "But she got kicked off the program. I only asked for her to join to be a sounding board for me anyway …"

Sam rolled her eyes again. Some things never changed.

"So now you're back to working on it on your own, and you need my help." Sam finished for him.

"What? No! I don't _need_ your help." He protested.

Sam just raised her eyebrows at him.

"That is, given enough time and the right resources, I'm absolutely certain I could do it without you. But, given that you already _know_ exactly how the stargate works, it would certainly be _quicker_ , if you could, you know, give me a primer on the fundamentals."

Sam sat back in her seat and folded her arms. "Give me one good reason why I should do that."

He blinked at her. "Well … _because._ "

"Convincing."

"Aw, come on, Sam. We're all professionals here. What possible harm could it do to you to let the world have a working stargate? Oh!" He exclaimed suddenly. "I know what this is about. You don't want _me_ getting all the credit. You think I'm going to take your advice and then reap all the glory."

Sam snorted incredulously. "McKay, I don't give a rat's ass about credit."

"It's not like I could _tell_ them that I violated my non-disclosure agreement and probably a bunch of other laws besides to come here and get your input."

"Look, Rodney, if you convince the Navy to let me come down to McMurdo and work on it with you, I'll tell you anything you want to know. But I'm not giving up my one and only bargaining chip by explaining it to you now in secret. I need access to the stargate."

"But … but they're not going to give you that!" He protested. "You'll just run off and start screwing around with the timeline!"

Sam closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose. "I can't have this fight again."

" _Surely_ you agree that if this intergalactic bad guy turns up like you say he's going to, the best thing for Earth is to have an operational stargate and teams going out into the galaxy to search for defensive technology. I mean, with what you know about the galaxy, you could probably _point_ us in the direction of everything we need to win a fight with this guy. So what's your problem? Why won't you help us?"

"Because it's not that simple. Ba'al stacked the deck against us. Whatever we do, wherever we go out there, I guarantee you he'll have got there first, probably decades ago. He had a _seventy year_ head start over us, and he was ready, he was prepared, he had a plan in place before any of this started. Even if I gave you everything you asked and everything you don't even know to ask, we'd still lose. The only way to fix this is to go back in time and repair the damage Ba'al did to the timeline."

"And then what? All of our lives get re-written? How do I know that your timeline is any better than this one? What if I'm miserable, or dead? Or worse?"

"You're _fine_ , Rodney." Sam said earnestly. "In fact, you have an amazing life in my timeline. Really, you wouldn't be disappointed."

"Are you and I still …?" He waggled his fingers between the two of them, and Sam sighed and rolled her eyes.

"We were never together in the original timeline, but from what I understand, it didn't exactly work out great in this one anyway. We're better as friends, trust me."

"Am I with _anyone_?"

"There is more at stake here than your love life!" Sam said, exasperated.

"I know that. I just want all the information so I can make an informed decision."

Sam blinked. "So you're considering helping me?"

McKay cleared his throat. "Let's just say I'm not completely ruling it out."

Sam's heart leapt in her chest, and she impulsively reached out and gripped Rodney's hand. " _Thank_ you Rodney. Really."

"Yes, well, don't go jumping for joy yet, I certainly haven't agreed to anything."

"I know. I'm just grateful that you're hearing me out."

He knocked his knuckles on the table, thinking. "So, what is it exactly that you want me to do?"

Sam took a moment to order her thoughts. "Convince the Navy to bring myself, Dr Jackson and Colonel Mitchell back into the stargate program. Let me work with you to get the gate working, and then help me figure out a way to get me and my team through it."

He huffed. "Maybe you'd like a pony too, or for me to invent you a time machine myself."

"There's no need for sarcasm. You asked what I wanted, and that's it."

"You know there's no guarantee that I can convince them to bring you in."

"All I'm asking is that you try."

"And then you'll help me get the stargate running?"

"Yes."

He tapped his fingers on the table, and Sam watched him, anxiously.

"Alright. I'll try."

Sam sagged with relief. "Thank you." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I won't forget this."

"Any chance of a quickie in the restroom? To express your gratitude?"

She swatted the back of his head, but she was grateful enough that she didn't put much force into it. "Ass."

* * *

 _Carlin & Shaft: Good news. Saw lemon-hater ex. He's on board. He's going to try and convince them to hire all of us back. Stand by. Thera_

* * *

The next morning, having not slept a wink all night, Sam looked almost as bad as she was supposed to feel when she answered the front door to a sympathetic grimace from Agent Barrett.

"Rough night, huh?" He said, passing her a paper pharmacy bag. "Brought you some medicine."

"Thanks."

"Are you gonna take a sick day from the garage?"

Sam thought about it. It _would_ help her cover for last night, and honestly the idea of curling up in bed and sleeping the day away sounded damned tempting. She wasn't as young as she used to be.

"Yeah, I think I'd better."

"I'll leave you to rest then." Barrett said. "Let me know if you need to see a doctor or anything."

"Thank you Malcolm." Sam said with genuine gratitude.

He quirked an eyebrow at the informality, but let it pass, and Sam shut the door behind him as he left.

A quick call to Hank from her landline telephone later, she was tucked up in bed, more than ready for a good long nap.

* * *

"Get up!"

The covers were ripped from Sam's bed and she woke violently, ready to defend herself.

"Get dressed, now."

Through the hazy confusion of a person who had just been rudely awoken from a deep sleep, Sam recognised Malcolm Barrett, who was tearing through her possessions, emptying drawers, searching cupboards – and fuming.

"What the hell's going on?" She asked.

"Where were you last night?" Barrett demanded.

She stared at him.

"Don't play innocent with me, I checked the CCTV recording of the camera on the fire escape. You climbed out the bathroom window and were gone for three hours."

Sam closed her eyes and inwardly groaned. She'd known that fire escape had been a risk, but there hadn't been any other way down without breaking her neck.

"Answer the question, Taylor! Where did you go?"

She folded her arms and stood her ground, staring at him.

"Fine." He said, and pulled some clothing out of her closet, throwing it at her. "Get dressed, or I'll drag you out of here in your pyjamas."

"Where are we going?"

"You're being relocated." He told her, and Sam felt it like a punch to the gut. He smiled grimly. "I did warn you not to cross me."

* * *

Sam didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Hank, and she never saw him again.

Agent Barrett escorted her from her apartment the moment she was dressed, bundled her into the back of an SUV, and drove for five hours to a Navy base. There, she sat in a non-descript windowless room and stared silently into the middle-distance while first Barrett, and then another agent she'd never seen before attempted to interrogate her about her activities the night before.

Her silence infuriated them, but they didn't seem willing to resort to a more … _forceful_ … approach. After what felt like days, they gave up, gave her food and water, and let her sleep in a cot on the floor of that same room.

The next day, she was issued with a new identity. This time she was Alison Fraser, which made her hurt with missing Cassie, and Janet. They cut her dark hair short, in the style she'd had in her SG-1 days, and gave her a new pair of thick-rimmed glasses. Then, Barrett cuffed her and drove her for twelve hours out to a new town, and a new home.

It was another small, featureless apartment in another large and unremarkable town. It had two bedrooms, and she realised that this time Barrett wasn't just going to be watching her on cameras – he'd be living there too, watching her every move.

There was no hope of contacting Daniel and Cameron. But, she hoped it wouldn't matter. It hurt to lose what little freedom she's had, and the life and people she'd grown familiar with, but when all was said and done, this didn't change anything.

Their best hope was still Rodney McKay.

God help them all.

* * *

 _Special thanks to KMG for the review earlier today, which reminded me that I had only a couple of scenes left to write in this chapter and prompted me to actually get it done! Sorry for the long delay between chapters. Hopefully the next one will be up sooner ... there's not far left to go now._


	7. Chapter 7 - The Al'kesh

**Chapter 7 – The Al'Kesh**

 _Author's note: Sorry for the big delays between chapters. Rest assured I am still working on this and I will finish it! I'll try to get the next chapter up a bit quicker this time, especially as we're entering the final stretch now._

 _Disclaimer: I have used some dialogue and plot from the movie Stargate: Continuum in this chapter. I am not claiming any of those wonderful words as my own._

* * *

Barrett was going stir-crazy. Sam could hear him, prowling the apartment, cleaning and re-arranging the furniture and all but climbing the walls.

She stayed in her room, curled up on the bed, staring out the window at the blue, cloudless sky. She took a perverse pleasure in it – she was Barrett's prisoner, but if she stayed in her room, she held him prisoner in the apartment. He couldn't leave her alone.

He hadn't resorted to dragging her out by her hair yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time.

The trouble was, her life now was a waiting game. She stayed put, toed the line, and fervently prayed that McKay would come through for her. She wasn't allowed to leave the apartment without Barrett escorting her, and even if she were to leave, she wasn't permitted to work, or interact with anyone other than Barrett.

She could have gone outside, to the park perhaps, to enjoy the sweet-smelling summer air and warmth of sunshine on her skin … but she was hurt, torn away from her life and her friends once again, and the only outlet for her pain was to lie here, and punish Barrett with her inactivity.

It was small comfort, but she'd take what she could get.

* * *

Barrett lasted exactly three days longer than Sam expected.

He burst into her room, eyes wild and features haggard. "Taylor, we're going out."

Sam rolled onto her back and closed her eyes. "I'm not 'Taylor' anymore. Remember? Your buddies renamed me again."

"Fine, _Fraser_. Come on, you need to get out of this apartment."

Sam didn't budge. "My best friend's last name was Fraiser. My god-daughter, too."

Barrett stared at her for a moment, flummoxed by that. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Would you rather I call you by your first name? Alison?"

"Call me whatever you want Malcolm. It doesn't matter."

He huffed. "Well, regardless. Put your glasses on, we're leaving."

She rolled over again, away from him. "I'm staying here."

" _No_ , you're not. You need some fresh air and some sun."

"You mean _you_ do."

"Since you mention it, yes, yes I do. It's not healthy staying cooped up like this, for either of us."

"You can leave whenever you want."

"You know perfectly well I can't leave you alone." Barrett said, sounding tired.

Sam smiled humourlessly into her pillow. "Sucks to be my babysitter, huh?"

"Look, I think I've been very patient. We're in this situation because you betrayed my trust, but rather than taking it out on you, I've given you time and space to adjust to the relocation. But come on, enough is enough. If you don't come outside with me, I'm going to have to seriously consider recommending you be moved to secure facility where you'll be under twenty-four hour medical supervision."

That got Sam's attention, and she looked over her shoulder at him. " _Medical_ supervision?"

"To treat you for depression." He elaborated.

"I'm not depressed." Sam said hotly.

"Oh really? You've been completely disengaged from life, you won't get out of bed or leave the apartment, you're disinterested in anything going on around you … need I go on?"

"What exactly is it that you expect me to do?" Sam asked, sitting up and pushing her short dark bangs away from her face. "I'm not allowed to go anywhere or do anything without you, and I'm not allowed to talk to anyone but you. You say I'm disengaged from life, but from where I'm sitting I don't have any other choice."

"You could come outside with me." Barrett said. "A walk outside, and then maybe we get something to eat, out there in the world."

Sam scrubbed her hands over her face. "And then what? I live here as your 'kept woman' for the rest of my life?" She knew she was pushing it now, and this wouldn't help her goal of staying out of trouble until McKay called for her, but the conversation was making her angry.

"That depends on you!" Barrett retorted. "I would think by now you'd understand how this works. You behave and follow the rules, and maybe you start getting some of your freedom back."

Sam dropped her head into her arms, wrapped around her knees. Maybe Barrett had a point about her mental state – the future he wanted her to aspire to was as depressing as hell.

For long moments there was silence. Sam hid her face and breathed, and Barrett stood there, watching her.

"If there was one thing, one freedom that you had before which would make this bearable for you, what would it be?" He asked eventually.

She looked up at him in surprise, and then thought about it, taking a deep breath.

"A job. My job at the garage was what made it bearable before." She said.

Barrett frowned and nodded, folding his arms. "I can't promise anything, but I'll raise it with Lieutenant Commander Jefferson."

Sam blinked slowly. "You're kidding."

"I'm not saying it would be the same as it was before, I'd still have to be there with you supervising, but I happen to agree that giving you something to occupy your time would be a good idea."

"I – thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, in the name of all that is holy, can we please leave this god damn apartment?"

Sam chuckled at the desperation in his tone. "Alright."

* * *

"You can't be serious." Jefferson scoffed. "What the hell does this woman do to you idiots? I thought you had more sense than to let her wrap you around her little finger like she did Harrison."

Barrett bristled at the implication. "With all due respect sir, this isn't that. The prison system gives inmates day-jobs inside as part of their rehabilitation. What I'm proposing isn't that different. She needs something to occupy her time, otherwise she's either going to end up breaking out again and causing us all a world of hurt, or she'll lose what's left of her sanity and I'll find her in the bathroom one morning having slashed her wrists with a razor blade."

His dramatic speech gave Jefferson pause, and the large man steepled his fingers, elbows on the desk, studying him.

"Is it really that bad?"

Malcolm sighed. "I don't know, maybe. She's hard to read. I'm no psychologist, but in my opinion her mental health isn't exactly stellar. I just really don't think that giving her nothing but free time to think about her situation is a good idea."

He watched as Jefferson stood and walked over to the window. The Lieutenant Commander looked out at the street for a moment before speaking again.

"I'm sorry Barrett. I understand your concerns, but at this point I can't authorise it. She's too much of a security risk."

Malcolm concealed his irritation with effort. "May I ask why?"

"Because, _Barrett_ , that's how she duped you last time." Jefferson said with bite in his tone.

"Sir?"

"She was hiding a laptop computer at that damn garage, right under your nose!" Jefferson said, face turning red as he warmed to his topic. "The IT nerds still haven't managed to unpick all the security she put on it, but dollars to donuts that's how she organised whatever she was doing on that midnight stroll she took on your watch!"

Malcolm stared at him in shock, trying to organise his thoughts. "I don't understand, I didn't see any laptop."

"No, you didn't, which is why I'm less than eager to entrust you to supervise her in a work environment now."

"But I was the only one watching her, if she had a laptop, how did you find it?"

Jefferson looked at him like he was being deliberately stupid. "I had a second agent watching the pair of you. After the fiasco with Nathan Harrison, I didn't want to risk her turning another of my agents against me."

Malcolm felt sick. Not only had he not realised he was being surveilled himself, but he'd let Taylor – Fraser – _Carter_ , pull the wool over his eyes and conceal a laptop from him. The thought of what a woman with her skill-set could do with such a device boggled the mind.

"I don't know what to say."

"Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut. And for the moment, the pair of you can just sit on your hands in that apartment for all I care. Just keep her under control."

"Yes sir." Barrett said numbly.

"Dismissed, agent."

* * *

Sam was in the middle of a game of solitaire, with half an eye on the nature documentary the bored stand-in agent was watching, when Barrett returned to the apartment in a barely-contained rage.

"You're relieved, Granger." He addressed the other agent sharply, who left wordlessly, giving Barrett a wide berth.

"I assume it didn't go well." Sam said, and then regretted it. Barrett rounded on her, red-faced, like a volcano about to erupt.

"You had a laptop at that damn garage." He said, his tone unnaturally even and measured. "You were doing god knows what with it, right under my nose. My superiors assigned another agent to spy on the both of us because they didn't trust _me_ , purely because of the way Harrison got compromised. That agent found your laptop, which means now Jefferson has even more reason not to trust either of us, because you were violating the rules behind my back with that laptop and I _didn't notice_!"

Sam groaned. "So that's where it went. It disappeared out of the store room about a month ago."

"What were you doing with it?" Barrett demanded.

Sam licked her lips carefully. "I think you know I'm not going to answer that."

"Like hell you're not! You humiliated me in front of my superiors, so you are _damn_ well going to tell me why you did it!"

"Or what?" Sam asked calmly.

Barrett was almost shaking with rage. She didn't think he'd turn violent, but she was tensed and ready just in case.

In the end, he didn't answer her.

"You can give up hope of ever getting a job in this town." He hissed, eventually. "Jefferson doesn't trust you, and neither do I. You're going to stay in this apartment under my supervision until such time as I earn my way back into Jefferson's good graces and get reassigned, and then you'll stay in this apartment under the next poor bastard's supervision. And that will be your entire sorry, miserable life."

* * *

The weather turned colder as summer burned out in the remains of September. Sam was locked in a holding pattern, going through the motions robotically as she waited in numb, helpless patience for McKay to ride to her rescue.

She and Barrett barely spoke except when absolutely necessary. They went out to jog in the park every morning, and grocery shopping once a week. Other than that, she remained indoors. Barrett gave her what distractions he trusted her with – a deck of cards, library books, the TV … eventually out of sheer boredom she even learned to knit, and her cooking skills improved dramatically.

When the holding pattern broke during an excursion to get groceries in town, it took a moment for Sam to process what she was seeing.

An al'kesh, soaring overhead in a scream of engine noise, tailed by what looked like an F-16. A sight from another life.

Someone nearby was screaming. She was jostled to the side as people ran down the sidewalk, in the direction the ship had gone, not running away in fear, but running towards the spectacle, phones held aloft as they tried to capture the UFO on video.

She shook herself out of her shocked stupor, and realised Barrett was yelling at her, demanding information.

"Fraser! Are you listening to me? Do you know what that was?"

"An al'kesh." She said, grabbing his arm and towing him out of the river of people. "It's Ba'al, he's here. Call your superiors, I need to speak with the President right now."

Barrett stared at her incredulously.

"I'm not kidding." Sam yelled at him. "That was probably an advance scout, but the rest of the fleet won't be far behind, and Earth is practically defenceless. I can help, but only if you _let me._ "

He shook his head in bewilderment, but mercifully pulled out his phone and dialled.

"Commander Jefferson, this is Agent Barrett. I'm out with my primary Alison Fraser and we just saw an alien spacecraft flying overhead. She says she needs to speak with the President."

Sam watched impatiently, her veins thrumming with adrenaline. She felt alive. Her mind worked furiously as she thought through the implications of the al'kesh's appearance.

"Yes sir, we're on our way." Barrett put the phone in his pocket. "I'm bringing you in."

"Where? Who are you taking me to?" She asked urgently.

"Washington DC. The President's probably being taken to the command bunker, but Jefferson's going to try and get his staff on the phone."

Sam nodded, and started running. They'd walked from the apartment into town, but Barrett had a government-issue sedan in the apartment building's parking lot. She heard Barrett fall into step behind her, keeping pace. Thankfully the morning jogs in the park had kept her in shape.

In ten minutes they were back at the parking lot.

"Give me your keys." She said, holding a hand out to Barrett.

"Are you serious? Hell no, I'm driving."

"We need to get there _fast_. How much experience do you have driving at speed?"

Barrett just blinked at her.

"Keys! Now!" She barked at him, and incredibly he complied, tossing them to her in an underarm throw. She snatched them out of the air, pulled the driver's side door open and swung into the vehicle. Barrett had barely shut his door behind him when she gunned the engine and tore out of the parking lot, tyres squealing.

* * *

At the Pentagon, after a painfully time-consuming series of security checks, Lt. Commander Jefferson met them in his office.

"Have you spoken with the President?" Sam asked, the moment she laid eyes on the man.

"He's in a security briefing, but he'll be informed that you're here as soon as he's available." Jefferson said, gesturing for her and Barrett to take seats. Sam ignored the tacit instruction and stayed standing.

"What about Daniel Jackson and Cameron Mitchell? Are they being brought here too?"

"I've asked their agents to bring them, but it's going to take some time. You only had to come from Maryland, but Michael Stephens is in Chicago and Bryan Bennett is in a small town in Utah. I think Jackson is Stephens and Mitchell is Bennett, from memory."

"As long as they're coming." Sam said, letting out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. It was dizzying, after all this time … Daniel and Cam, on their way back to her. At last.

"What about the stargate?" She asked after a moment. "Can I speak with Dr McKay?"

"Let's just wait to see what the President says." Jefferson said, sitting at his desk, opposite Barrett, both of them looking strained and exhausted.

"We don't have time to stand around." Sam said, planting her hands on Jefferson's desk. "If that al'kesh was an advance scout, it may already have reported back to Ba'al that Earth is defenceless, and the rest of his fleet could arrive at any time now."

"And what is it that you think you can do about it, that the President and the combined might of the United States armed forces can't?"

"Where do I even begin?" Sam said incredulously. "I can get the stargate operational, I can advise the President on the likely tactics Ba'al will use, I can give him details of the capabilities of the attacking ships, and we can come up with a plan to defend the god-damn planet!" Her voice rose in volume as she spoke until she was all-but shouting.

"Fraser, calm down and sit. I'm not sending you anywhere or letting you speak with anyone until I get instructions from the President."

"My name is _Carter_." She hissed, but sat down.

Luckily, at that moment the phone rang, belaying any further argument.

"He _what_?" Jefferson exclaimed, having answered the phone. "Send him up to my office now!"

"Sir?" Barrett asked.

Jefferson didn't answer, but went to his office door and opened it, looking out down the length of the corridor, waiting. Sam exchanged a look with Barrett, but he just shrugged, at a loss.

"Inside, now!" Jefferson barked after a minute, clearly spotting the person he'd been waiting on.

Sam was still in her seat in front of the desk, twisting her neck to look at Jefferson in the doorway. The approaching footsteps reached the door, and for a moment her view was blocked by Jefferson entering the room ahead of the new arrival, but when he moved out of the way, she gasped and jumped to her feet.

" _McFly_?"

* * *

Sam sat on a hard plastic chair out in the corridor, staring at the closed door of Jefferson's office. Her leg jumped restlessly with pent-up energy.

"I thought he'd been sent to Germany." She muttered eventually. Barrett raised an eyebrow at her.

"How exactly did you hear that?" He asked.

She didn't answer.

The door opened, and she jumped to her feet. McFly came out, and gave her a tense smile. "Hey, Taylor."

She couldn't help it, it was just too good to see him. She crossed the few steps between them, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him fiercely.

"It's good to see you too." He chuckled, hugging her back.

Barrett cleared his throat noisily behind her. She pulled back, giving Nate a rueful smile.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Yes, I'd like to know that too." Barrett added caustically.

"I saw one of the ships, and figured that the invasion you'd been warning about was starting. I want to help, and I was on assignment not far from here, so I came straight in."

"And Jefferson's not tossing you out on your ass?" Barrett asked.

"Hey, man, there are hostile aliens in orbit around our planet. It's pretty much all hands on deck."

"Has the fleet been spotted?" Sam asked.

"Not unless the 'fleet' is the five small ships that have been buzzing cities around the globe."

Sam shook her head. "No, those are just the advance scouts. They're all in orbit now?"

"That's what I heard." Nate said.

"Damn." She muttered. "Then we don't have much time."

"How do you figure?"

"If they're just sitting in orbit, they've finished surveying the planet and will have already sent a message back to Ba'al. Depending on how far away he was waiting, his fleet could arrive at any moment."

"Barrett, get in here!" Jefferson's voice boomed from inside the office.

Barrett shot Sam a quelling look and went back in, shutting the door behind him.

"How are you?" Nate asked.

Sam frowned at him. "My planet's under attack and no one's letting me try to stop it, so right now, not great."

"I meant, how have you been in general?"

She shook her head. "I don't know; bored, trapped, miserable."

"I'm really sorry for just leaving like that." Nate said softly.

"It's ok, I know you didn't have a choice."

"Did you at least get my letter?"

She gave him a nervous smile. "I did."

He took a deep breath. "Good, good, I'm glad. I meant every word, by the way."

Sam looked down at her hands. "Look, Nate, this isn't really the time …"

"I know." He squeezed her shoulder. "You don't have to say anything."

She nodded, and shifted from foot to foot. "This is taking too long." She muttered.

"I'm sure the President will want to see you soon, he knows you've got useful intel." Nate said reassuringly.

The office door opened again, and Barrett strode out and down the corridor away from them without a word. Jefferson appeared in the doorway a moment later. "You two need to get upstairs. Stephens and Bennett have just left the airport in a transport, there'll be here shortly, and then a car will take the four of you from here to the White House."

"The four of us?" Sam repeated, glancing at Nate.

"I'm going with you." He told her.

"I've assigned him to be my department's official escort for you and the others from this point forward." Jefferson explained.

"What about Agent Barrett?"

"I need him elsewhere. Now get going."

Sam didn't need telling twice.

* * *

"Is that them?" Sam asked as she caught sight of an SUV pulling around the corner onto the long ramp down into the garage.

"Could be." Nate answered, and they both stood to watch as the truck drew closer.

The door to the backseat opened before the SUV had fully stopped, and out jumped Cameron Mitchell, worry etched into his features mingling with relief when he locked eyes with Sam. Before a single word could leave her lips she was wrapped in his arms.

"Sam." Cameron said into her shoulder, her name a low, pained sound that reverberated inside her.

"Hey you." She breathed. She opened her eyes and saw the door on the other side of the SUV was open, and the back of a brown tousled head emerging.

"Daniel!" She called, and Cam reluctantly let her go so that she could run around the vehicle. Her old friend's face crinkled into a smile, and he opened his arms.

"Daniel." She all but sobbed, and hugged him, burying her face in his shoulder and allowing herself a few tears.

Cam's hand alighted gently on her back.

"We need to keep moving, guys. We might not have much time."

Sam pulled back and wiped her eyes, nodding. "You're right. Let's go."

She watched Daniel carefully as he walked with them towards the waiting sedan, apparently without difficulty.

"Haven't needed the cane in a while." He said, noticing her scrutiny. She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand.

Nate was already in the front seat beside the driver, so Sam, Daniel and Cam climbed into the back, Sam in the middle.

"Guys, this is Agent Nate Harrison." She said, introducing her friend in the front seat. Nate gave Daniel and Cam a sloppy salute and a grin. "He was my original handler."

Daniel's eyes widened. " _Oh_ , the one who –"

"Yes." Sam cut him off quickly, looking nervously at the unknown driver.

"It's an honour to meet you both." Nate said.

"Likewise." Cam replied, and Daniel just beamed and put an arm around Sam's shoulders, giving her a squeeze, still high on the thrill of the reunion.

"Nice hair, by the way." Cam said to her teasingly. Sam scrunched her nose in distaste at her dark hair in its harsh, short style.

"It wasn't my choice." She said. At least given the emergency circumstances she hadn't been made to wear the glasses for this trip, too.

The drive to the White House was a short one, made shorter by strategic use of an emergency light and siren which the driver deployed when the traffic got heavy.

At the White House, they were met by an aide who, to Sam's great relief, advised he was to escort them directly to the President in the command bunker.

Having spent a large portion of her adult life working in a secure underground facility, descending into the White House Bunker felt almost familiar. She didn't have time to dwell however, as they were hurried through the halls, and her thoughts were fully occupied by the danger orbiting hundreds of miles overhead.

As they passed the last security checkpoint, Sam heard voices up ahead, the sound of dozens of people working in an orderly but urgent fashion, and over it all, the President himself speaking, as they approached the doorway of the main command centre.

"Why would they come all the way from wherever the hell it is they came from, fly around with a bunch of F-16s on their asses for half a day, and then just sit there?" President Henry Hayes asked.

"They're advance scout ships, Mr President." Cam answered.

The President turned, noticing the four of them standing there in the doorway.

"You asked that they be brought to the Command Bunker the moment they arrived, sir." Their escort spoke up.

"That's fine Alex, thank you." The President replied, shaking each of their hands. "Henry Hayes. Thanks for coming. You were saying, Mr Mitchell?"

"The ships in orbit are called al'kesh. They serve both as scouts and as ground support bombers."

"And they're nothing compared to what's coming next." Sam warned.

"Really? So what's coming next?" Hayes asked.

"Death. Slavery. Uh … more slavery, more death." Daniel answered caustically. Sam shared a bitter grimace with him as he met her eye.

"Look, if you want to say 'I told you so', go ahead and get it off your chest." Hayes retorted. "But then you can do one of two things. You can help, or you can leave."

"Ok, bye!" Daniel said, turning away. Sam had half turned to stop him with a hand on his arm, when Cameron stopped him with a sharp word instead.

"Jackson."

"Right, I forgot to say _I told you so_!"

"Now are you gonna help, or not?" Hayes asked.

"Have you got the stargate working?" Sam asked.

"Not yet, but we have our best scientists working on it." He answered. Sam rolled her eyes, having been told not so long ago by their 'best' scientist, that he was effectively stumped. "It's not the one you sent down, we couldn't find that one, but we did manage to find the other one, in Antarctica. It's still there, at McMurdo base."

Hayes narrowed his eyes suspiciously when none of them showed the faintest flicker of surprise at that news, but Cameron cut in before he could question them on it.

"How quickly can you get us there?"

Hayes smirked. "Don't forget, I'm the one who gave the order to keep you away from that thing. Erasing the timeline is not an option."

"Then why are we here?" Daniel asked, annoyed.

"When I was first briefed on you three, I thought my Chief of Staff was yanking my chain. I didn't believe him the second time, either. Finally, he had to bring in the National Security Advisor to convince me that he wasn't kidding. On page two thousand and something of the brief, one of you, I can't remember which, talks about how I handled a similar invasion in your timeline to the one that might happen here."

"Of course, in our case, you had the benefit of an operational Stargate Program for about seven years." Daniel pointed out.

"Well, to be fair, it was actually the Ancient weapons platform in Antarctica that saved us." Sam said.

"Exactly… Shouldn't it still be there?" Hayes asked.

"It's under a mile of ice." Sam said. She'd thought of the Ancient weapons platform herself, but couldn't think of a way to get down there fast enough to use it with the technology currently at Earth's disposal.

"The Army Corps of Engineers have been drilling at the coordinates you gave us for the last three months. We're not there yet, but we're close." Hayes told her.

Sam gaped a little, surprised at that. Back when she'd been able to spy on the Navy's stargate programme a little, with her contraband laptop, she'd checked to see if anything had been done about that, but beyond guarding the area, no activity was in evidence. Of course, it had been longer than three months since she'd last been able to check.

"Even so, its power source is depleted. We'd need a fully-charged Zero Point Module."

Daniel suddenly turned to them. "Taonas. There's no reason it still shouldn't be there."

"We'd have to steal a cargo ship." Cameron said.

"Well, it's not like we haven't done _that_ before." Daniel pointed out.

Sam frowned, thinking. "Once we recover the ZPM, we can gate directly back to Earth, because the Stargate's already in Antarctica. We'll just need –"

"– someone with a gene that could operate the chair." Daniel finished.

Sam turned to the President. "If there's still time, sir, this can work."

"That's the SG-1 I read about." Hayes said, smiling.

"If the control crystal's intact and the power relay's in position, I should be able to dial out the gate in a couple of hours." Sam said. Given what she'd learned from McKay and from her own snooping, she was reasonably confident everything was in place.

"General Hammond?" Hayes said, turning.

Sam blinked in shock as she registered the Air Force General facing away from them, whom she hadn't paid any attention to until now. Hammond turned towards them.

"Sir! It's good to see you."

Hammond looked at her blankly, with a disturbing lack of familiarity. "If you say so." He turned to the President. "There are four F-15s on the tarmac at Andrews, each carrying minimal armaments and extra fuel tanks."

"Once the Stargate is operational, you'll be escorted through by a squad of four marines. That's not negotiable." Hayes told them.

"To keep us on mission." Cameron surmised.

"That's not necessary, sir, but we'll take the back-up." Sam said.

"Ah, sir, with your permission I'd like to go with them." Nate spoke up from his place on Sam's right.

The President looked at him in surprise, as though he hadn't even realised the agent was in the room. "And you are …?"

"Agent Harrison, sir. I was Colonel Carter's handler." Sam felt a twinge of irony that he was finally using her real name rather than 'Taylor'. "Sir, I have the training to be an asset to the mission, and I'm fully briefed. Commander Jefferson himself assigned me less than an hour ago to make sure Carter, Jackson and Mitchell don't make any attempts at altering the timeline during any necessary interaction with the stargate."

"Fine, go with them." Hayes said, with a dismissive wave.

"Even if everything goes according to plan, it's going to be a couple of days at least until we get back. What are you gonna do if Ba'al shows up before then?" Daniel asked.

"Is there anything we _can_ do, Doctor Jackson?" Hayes asked.

"Well, I wouldn't mention us." Daniel responded glibly.

"Thought of that one." Hayes smirked. "Good luck."

"To all of us, sir." Cam replied, and the four of them headed out.

* * *

"I need to place a call to McMurdo." Sam told Nate as they got back into the black sedan, now en route to Andrews AFB.

"You mean to get them started on setting up the stargate?" Cameron asked over his shoulder from the front seat.

"McKay should be able to follow my instructions. It would give us a head start."

"I'll see what I can do." Nate said, dialling his cellphone.

"Did either of you name people with the Ancient gene in your interviews last year?" Cameron asked Sam and Daniel, as Nate talked on the phone.

"I don't think so." Daniel said, and Sam shook her head. "Although I probably mentioned that Jack has it."

"Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard might be around." Sam suggested. "He has it, and he was probably the most adept with the chair, besides Jack." She felt a little frisson of pain as she used her husband's name, despite the time that had passed since his death.

"Still, we should leave them a list of as many people as we can remember, in case there's trouble locating Jack or Colonel Sheppard." Daniel said. "Whoever does it will need to be flown up to Antarctica as soon as possible."

"Yes sir, she's right here." Nate turned to Sam, catching her attention. "McMurdo." He said by way of explanation, handing her the phone.

"Thank you." She said, lifting the phone to her ear. "This is Colonel Samantha Carter, whom am I speaking with?"

"Brigadier General Jack O'Neill."


	8. Chapter 8 - The Fleet

**Chapter 8 - The Fleet**

 _Disclaimer: I have used some dialogue and plot from the movie Stargate: Continuum in this chapter. I am not claiming any of those wonderful words as my own._

* * *

 _ **Previously, in Chapter 7:**_

" _Yes sir, she's right here." Nate turned to Sam, catching her attention. "McMurdo." He said by way of explanation, handing her the phone._

" _Thank you." She said, lifting the phone to her ear. "This is Colonel Samantha Carter, whom am I speaking with?"_

" _Brigadier General Jack O'Neill."_

* * *

 _ **And now, the continuation:  
**_

 _Jack._

"Jack?"

A pause, during which Daniel gave her a wide-eyed, shell-shocked look.

"Excuse me?"

 _Right … not Jack._

"Sorry sir." Sam said, shaking herself, and shutting a big heavy blast door over her roiling emotions. "Old habits. I assume you've been briefed on the current state of emergency?"

"If you're referring to the impending 'alien invasion', yes, I have. Very sci-fi. Assuming of course this isn't the President's idea of an elaborate practical joke."

"It's real, sir, trust me, and we'll need to use the stargate to defend Earth. Are you in command of the stargate program down there at McMurdo?"

"No, the Navy's running the show here, I'm just the Air Force liaison."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you end up involved in this?"

"I volunteered."

She paused, expecting more, but he didn't elaborate. She looked at Daniel, who was staring at her intently, as though he was trying to read Jack's side of the conversation in the expressions that crossed her features.

"Forgive me, sir, but I got the impression that you didn't want anything more to do with this after you dropped us off in Alaska last year."

He cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. She could picture him in her mind's eye, tugging at his collar and shifting in his seat, a disgruntled expression on his face.

"Yes, well, I did give anything related to your little freak show a wide berth for a long while. But, after it had had time to sink in, I dunno … maybe it was curiosity. Hayes wanted an Air Force presence at McMurdo, and I requested the assignment."

"What about your family?" _What about Charlie?_

"My kid's in college, and I'm divorced from his mother. There wasn't really any reason not to take the gig. Plus, I hear you might need me to make the magic torpedo chair work."

"It's the Ancient weapons platform, the chair is the control interface. It only works for someone with a specific gene, which you have."

"Right. That's what I said."

She smiled fondly. "Not that it's not great to hear your voice again, sir, but we're a little pressed for time and I really need to talk to Dr McKay. Is he available?"

"Yeah, he's here, I'll pass you over. Let us know when you've got an ETA?"

"Yes sir."

"And Carter?"

"Yes sir?"

He paused. "Be careful."

She smiled, despite the lance of grief that speared through a crack in her blast door. "Yes sir. You too."

Daniel reached out and squeezed her hand.

"Sam?" That was McKay's voice.

"Rodney, hi." She rubbed at her eyes, focussing back on the issue of the stargate. "I'm en route to McMurdo, but it's going to be some hours before I reach you, so I've got some instructions for you to get the gate operational."

"So it's true? There really are aliens in orbit?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God. I mean, well, _crap_."

"Rodney, focus. My team and I need to go though that stargate as soon as possible when we arrive, so I need you to listen very carefully."

* * *

Despite the circumstances, sitting in the cockpit of an F-15 was wonderful. She had a long flight ahead of her, and she could barely wait to get her bird in the air, to relish in piloting her tactical fighter jet. The part of her mind that tended to talk in Janet's voice, told her it was psychological - after spending so long with so little control over her own life, the idea of being in sole control of a twin-engine fighter jet like this was intoxicating. But then, she'd always enjoyed fast and powerful machines – cars, motorcycles, fighter jets, spaceships … once a speed demon, always a speed demon.

Nate was in the second seat behind her, and across the tarmac Daniel was strapping in behind Cameron. The two other F-15 pilots escorting them were already prepped and ready to go.

"Ever been in one of these before?" Sam asked Nate.

"Can't say that I have, no." He sounded nervous. Sam chuckled.

"Relax McFly. I won't do any barrel rolls."

She glanced across at Cameron and caught him looking back at her. He toggled his radio.

"Sam, we just got word. Ba'al's finally joined the party."

"The fleet has arrived?"

"Affirmative."

Sam took a deep breath and returned her attention to the pre-flight checks.

"What does that mean for us?" Nate asked from behind her.

"It means the clock is ticking."

* * *

As Sam shot over the ocean under the clear blue sky, she could almost feel the oppressive weight of the goa'uld armada, lurking out of sight overhead like a bird of prey waiting for the right moment to strike.

"You realize Ba'al is going to figure out where we're headed before we get within a thousand miles of McMurdo." She said to the others over the radio.

"He thinks we're dead, remember?" Cameron replied.

"Oh, we have him now!" Daniel said sarcastically.

"It almost doesn't matter if he thinks it's us or not." Sam argued. "He knows we found a second stargate in Antarctica in the original timeline, and he knows about the Ancient weapons platform. All this activity in that region is going to look awfully suspicious."

"If you've got any other ideas, Sam, I'm all ears." Cameron said.

She grimaced. Unfortunately, regardless of the riskiness of this plan, it really was their only option.

"We'll just have to hope his attention is elsewhere."

"That's really not very comforting." Nate said.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to come with us." Sam pointed out.

"I just hope I _live_ to regret it."

* * *

"So …" Nate said awkwardly, talking to Sam over a private radio channel.

She sighed, having a feeling she knew where this going.

"So?" She prompted.

"I was just thinking, we're going to be flying pretty much in a straight line over nothing but ocean for a good few hours now, right?"

"Yes …" She said slowly.

"Would now be a good time to talk? I mean, when we get where we're going, it's going to be all go with no time to stop and think, and I figure there's a decent chance one or both of us might not make it out of this mission with our lives …"

"There's a comforting thought."

"You know what I'm saying, Sam. It might be now or never."

"Just say what you want to say, McFly."

There was a pause. "In my letter, I told you that I was falling in love with you."

Sam's hand's tightened on the controls. "Yes, you did."

"And I know you haven't really had any opportunity to respond to that before now, but … now we're here, and might die …"

"You want to know if I feel the same way?"

"Yes. I mean no, I know you probably don't, but … I don't know, do you feel anything at all for me? Or do you feel like you could have loved me, if we'd had the time?"

Sam suddenly found herself fantasizing about using the ejector seat. She'd been pretty sure this was what Nate would want to ask, but actually being in the conversation was more difficult than she imagined.

"Nate … I'm not in love with you. I do care about you, a lot, but … I love my husband. Even though he's gone, even though I may never get him back, I can't … _imagine_ … moving on from him, and from my kids. Maybe I would have, eventually, if I'd spent the rest of my life in that apartment with my job at the garage, with Hank and you, and maybe I'd even have fallen in love with you over time, but I can't tell you for certain. I don't _know_. All I can say for sure is how I feel right now."

Nate was quiet for a while, and Sam worried that she'd seriously upset him.

"Nate?"

"It's ok Sam. That was pretty much what I was expecting you to say."

"I really didn't want to hurt you, but …"

"It's ok, I get it, and I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

He reached forward and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"I'm sure. We're good, I promise. Thank you for being honest with me."

She patted his hand, and then carried on flying in silence.

* * *

The disembodied voice of one of their escort pilots crackled over the radio. "Sierra Golf One, we're receiving an encoded message. Stand by… Message reads: McMurdo has been destroyed. Return to your previous position and stand by for further instructions."

"Oh my God …" Sam whispered.

"Understood." Cameron said.

"So much for that." Daniel said.

A whole year, waiting, and hoping, and just like that the stargate and their only hope of fixing the timeline was gone. Without McMurdo, they couldn't even hope to defend the planet in the existing timeline. They were completely, and utterly, screwed.

Sam tried not to think about the other pain the news brought. Jack – at least, this timeline's Jack – had been at McMurdo, and must now be dead. He may not be the same Jack O'Neill that she'd married, but he was still Jack, just unburdened by the death of his son and a decade of stargate travel. She'd spoken with him and Rodney just scant hours ago. She could still hear their voices in her ear.

"What further instructions can there be, other than 'kiss your ass goodbye'?" She said aloud, her voice bitter.

"Well, let's pull about turn and find out." Cameron replied. He banked, and Sam followed.

"Sam …" Nate said uneasily. "If McMurdo's gone, and with it the stargate and the Ancient weapons platform … do we have any hope of standing against Ba'al?"

Sam sighed. "Honestly? No."

* * *

They hadn't planned on turning around at that point, and so fuel was tight getting back to Andrews. They needed a mid-air refuel on their way back up the East coast, and rendezvoused with a KC-135 to top up. Nate was fascinated with the procedure. If the circumstances hadn't been so dire, Sam would have gotten quite a kick out of showing off the plane to him properly.

Cameron was the last to refuel, and then dropped down into formation beside Sam.

"Thanks for the top-up, boys." He said over the radio. "Sierra Golf leader, we're going to be right back where we started –"

A light flashed in Sam's peripheral vision, and she turned her head just in time to see the KC-135 explode as a goa'uld energy weapon lanced down from above.

"Son of a bitch! Carter, break right! Break right!"

Sam banked sharply at Cam's instruction, keeping him on her left. The other two F-15s behind would follow. They had to take evasive action, and not present themselves as easy secondary targets to the aggressors above.

The energy weapons continued lancing down, but Sam quickly realised they weren't the target. It was the city below – Washington D.C. It made sense, given the previous attack on McMurdo. Ba'al had begun a tactical assault, and was taking out their defences and strategic command centres. The logic of the manoeuvre didn't make it any less harrowing to see first-hand, however, as fires burned and thick black smoke rolled over the city like a wave. It was doubtful that even the President's command bunker could withstand a direct hit from a goa'uld ha'tak energy weapon.

They requested an emergency vector change, and were directed away from Andrews. It was doubtful they would be able to land their now, and even if they could, they wouldn't be able to do any good on the ground in Washington.

The new vector only lasted minutes, however. Their escort pilot radioed again.

"We're receiving another encoded message with new flight instructions. Message reads: the Russians have the other one."

"Yes!" Nate said, thumping the back of Sam's seat in exaltation.

"Do what you need to do." The pilot continued.

Sam's display lit up with the new heading, and did some quick calculations. "Co-ordinates received. Stopping for gas, I estimate ETA at 19.30 Zulu."

She adjusted course, leading the group of four fighter jets away from the coast.

"Let's do what we need to do." Cam said.

* * *

Cam's promise to Daniel that the flight would be long and boring turned out to be accurate after all for a large portion of their journey, albeit that they now headed for Russia rather than Antarctica. They kept mostly over water, refuelling mid-air courtesy of other KC-135s, avoiding any cities or military bases that might make tempting targets for the fleet in orbit. Sam did worry that Ba'al might be monitoring their communications, and beat them there, but there was little that could be done about that.

"So, has anyone thought about what we're going to do when we reach the gate?" Daniel asked over the radio.

"Daniel's right." Sam said. "The Ancient weapons platform is gone, Plan A is out."

"Is there anything else you could do out there in the galaxy, any other weapons, or anyone who could help us?" Nate asked.

Sam thought about it. "I suppose we could try contacting the Asgard."

"You think they'd help? Remember they don't know us in this timeline." Cam said.

"They only started taking us seriously in our own timeline after Jack downloaded the Ancient library into his head." Daniel said. "Before that they thought we were still 'too young'."

"They protected plenty of worlds in this galaxy without necessarily treating them as equals. What about Cimmeria?"

"Still, I don't think they'd step in at this stage. At the moment we're fair game to the goa'uld. If the Asgard step in to save us given that we're not currently part of the Protected Planets Treaty, it could put the planets that are under the Asgard's protection in jeopardy." Daniel said.

"I suppose there's no guarantee the Asgard are even capable of helping at this point." Sam mused. "They were losing the war with the Replicators before we started working together."

"Is there anyone else?" Nate asked.

Sam ran through the list of their old allies in her head, and there was silence as Cam and Daniel did the same. The Tok'ra – it was a safe bet Ba'al had already eliminated them, and even if he hadn't, the Tok'ra didn't have enough firepower to help in a fight on this scale. Similarly the Tollan wouldn't have the clout to fight off Ba'al's armada, and probably wouldn't help even if they could, and the Knox were pacifists, content to remain on their own world and stay out of everyone else's business.

"No." Daniel said, reaching the same conclusion as Sam. "We're on our own."

"Which brings us back to the original plan." Sam said with conviction.

"You said Plan A was out?" Nate said, sounding confused.

Cam drew level with her, and she glanced at him and Daniel, meeting their eyes.

"Wait … you mean fixing the timeline, don't you?" Nate said.

"It's the only way." Daniel said. "We can't save Earth as it is now. The only thing that remains is to restore the history of the stargate program."

"It shouldn't have too much affect on the lives of anyone who wasn't involved in the original stargate program directly." Sam said. "Other than meaning they don't die in this attack, of course."

Nate sighed. Sam glanced behind her. "Nate?"

"I know, I know you're right, that we don't have any other options, it's just …"

"Look, if we're gonna have a problem with you, I'd prefer you tell us now." Cam said.

"No, it's ok. I'm on board."

"You're sure?" Sam asked.

He patted her shoulder. "I'll follow your lead, Taylor. I trust you."

She smiled. "Ok boys. Let's fix the goddamn timeline."

* * *

Finally, they neared land, the coast of Russia a scant handful of miles ahead.

"That last KC-135 pilot was a bit stingy. Fuel's gonna be close."

Sam, leading the F-15s, barely heard Cam's complaint as her attention was caught by the radar. _Oh shit._

"I have multiple contacts down range approaching at Mach 3.5."

"Gliders?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, that's a good bet. They're coming through at eighty thousand feet. Sierra Golf Escort, we must complete our mission. Do you understand?" Cam addressed the other two F-15 pilots.

"Affirmative. Sierra Golf One and Two, proceed to target. We will engage."

Sam watched the gliders' approach on radar, and then looked up as they entered visual range. "Here they come."

She and Cam banked and took evasive action as the gliders reached them, the other two F-15s engaging the enemy while she and Cam did their best to escape the fray. Sam was focussed to a fault, attention fully absorbed between piloting and keeping track of the gliders positions as they spun and dived around them. As they put distance between themselves and the other two fighter jets, it became apparent that part of the glider squadron was following them, and their evasive manoeuvres weren't enough to lose them.

"We can't shake them at altitude. We're gonna have to go down to the deck." She said to Cam over the radio.

"Yeah, we're right behind you." Cam agreed, and Sam dove, making Nate curse a blue streak behind her as the G-Forces shoved them into their seats. She levelled out over the dark water, and the gliders above scrambled to follow. It bought them precious seconds, but it would be mere moments before the advanced alien tactical fighters caught them again. The F-15s were light on armaments, having been prepped for speed and maximum fuel capacity.

Sam's radar caught her eye again, with activity at an unexpected vector. "I've got another contact, six bogies, dead ahead, coming right at us."

"Sorry, Sam, we're kind of busy right now." Cam said, as the gliders finally descended on their tails, opening fire.

But those bogies ahead didn't look the same as those behind. "I don't think they're gliders. They're MiGs!"

"Jackson, get on the radio!" Cam yelled, and Sam heard Daniel rattle off a sentence of harried Russian.

The MiGs sailed over them and engaged the tailing gliders, and Sam watched the hostiles vanish from her radar one by one with relief. Thank God for the Russians.

"We have been expecting you. Good luck!" One of the Russian MiG pilots radioed.

"Are the gliders still after us?" Nate asked her.

"The MiGs are keeping them occupied. I think we're in the clear." Sam said.

"I can see the coast." Cam said. "Sierra, rejoin, we're going to head on down."

"Copy that."

The coast loomed, and they soared low over the cliffs. Their destination was an air field not far from the coast, where there would be land transport waiting, to take them to the facility where Russian scientists had been studying the stargate recovered from the Arctic ocean floor.

* * *

Sam stretched out her back as she stood from the cockpit, safely back on solid ground at last. She helped Nate find the handholds to climb out and down on the dark runway, and joined Cam and Daniel on their way over to the waiting truck. Cam clapped her on the shoulder.

"Nice flying." He said. Sam gave him a restrained grin.

"You too, Shaft."

The truck ride was nightmarish. A ha'tak in orbit was still bombarding a nearby population centre with pulses from its energy weapon, and each hit shook the truck and filled their ears with the scream of the energy lancing the air, explosions peppering the sound-scape between shots. A single Russian shoulder was driving them, a kid who couldn't have been much more than twenty. Sam admired his nerves, driving four American strangers through all of this.

They pulled up outside a squat, square building, and the four of them leapt down from the back of the truck. Another young soldier was waiting outside, and greeted them unenthusiastically. He explained that there was no one else around, the scientists had left weeks ago, not having had a clue as to what the stargate even was. They called it the 'Anchor', because they'd found it at the bottom of the ocean.

Sam immediately went to a work station, assessing the situation. Unfortunately, they had a big problem. Main power had been cut to the facility, and the emergency batteries wouldn't be enough to dial the gate.

She irritably interrupted what sounded like an insult-slinging match in Russian between Daniel and the young soldier.

"Boys! We need power."

"What you see now is emergency batteries. We lost main power to facility over three hours ago." Sam restrained herself from rolling her eyes, having already figured that much, but Daniel cut in before she could explain what she meant.

"Ok, we understand that, but we've come a very, very long way to use this device."

"I cannot give you what I do not have."

The low whine of an engine overhead cut their conversation short.

"What was that?" Nate asked.

"Sounds like a ship." Sam said. "Al'kesh?"

The building shook, dust and debris falling from the ceiling.

"And it's landing on the roof. Just great." Cam said.

"We must get out of here." The Russian soldier said.

"Hey! Your weapon." Cam took the soldier's machine gun, and Sam, Nate and Daniel drew their side-arm 9mm handguns. The Russian soldier fled.

A familiar hum and whir alerted them of a ring transport down into the building, and the four of them took up position to ambush, anticipating the jaffa would head for the stargate.

Heavy footsteps approached, rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Hands up." Cam said, levelling the machine gun at … Teal'c?

The two jaffa following Teal'c moved to aim their weapons at Cam, and Sam stepped forward with her handgun levelled at them. "Don't."

"Teal'c?" Cameron said.

"How do you know my name?" Teal'c asked, not recognising them.

"I can do better than that. You're from Chulak, your best friend goes by the name of Bra'tac, and you're the First Prime of… Jackson, whose mark is that?"

"Ba'al." Daniel answered. Sam smirked, but kept her eyes on the two jaffa, Nate at her side helping her cover them.

"What did he promise to win you over?" Cam asked.

"The freedom of my people."

"I'll give him credit for knowing which button to push." Cam muttered.

"Ba'al is dead, slain by his queen." Teal'c told them.

"Queen?" Daniel said, sounding strained.

 _Oh no, not …_

"Qetesh." Daniel guessed.

Teal'c paused. "Indeed."

"Death is too good for that son of a bitch." Daniel bit out harshly.

"Easy Jackson." Cameron said.

"Why did she kill him?" Daniel asked Teal'c.

"That is none of your concern. Allow us passage through the Chappa'ai, and your lives may be spared."

"Or, you tell us what you're up to, and your lives will be spared." Cam countered.

"My only concern is my mission."

"Which is?" Cam asked.

"To avenge Ba'al's death. The final task of a First Prime." Daniel said bitterly.

Teal'c paused again, clearly shocked that they knew so much. "Indeed."

"Well, that sounds great. We'll help out, right guys?" Cam said.

"Sure, why not?" Sam said with a forced smile. Nate made a strangled noise beside her, but mercifully kept quiet.

"I'm not busy." Daniel quipped.

"Let's do it." Cam said.

"I do not require your assistance." Teal'c argued.

There was a deafening sound and the ground shook as an energy weapon struck. As the building wasn't immediately destroyed, Sam assumed the blast had hit the ship, rather than the building itself.

"My ship has been detected. Its shields have been extended to protect this building and the Chappa'ai, but it will not hold for long." Teal'c said.

"What do you say we all get out of here?" Cam said.

He and Teal'c stared each other down, Teal'c apparently reluctant to allow them to accompany them on his mission, but Mitchell's team having the upper hand in the stand-off with their weapons.

Sam stepped forward with exasperation. They didn't have time for this. "We can all die here when that shield fails, or we can go through the gate together and continue this discussion on the other side. It's up to you."

Teal'c lowered his zat, prompting everyone else to lower their weapons. He held up a small device that Sam didn't recognise. "This device will power the Chappa'ai."

He headed for the gate. Sam signalled Nate to stick with her, and followed.

"I like that. No hesitation." Cam was saying to Teal'c ahead, while Sam wondered where Ba'al had managed to find a device that small to power a stargate. The Tollan had had similar technology, and of course the Knox could open a stargate without any visible device …

The building shook and debris fell heavily as the ship's shields began to fail in the face of the onslaught of Ha'tak weapons fire. Teal'c placed the device on the stargate and activated it. The stargate kawooshed to life.

"Let's go, let's go!" Cam yelled.

Sam grabbed Nate's sleeve and towed him along with her into the event horizon, hearing him yell in alarm at the last second before they entered.

He emerged on the other side panting. "Holy _shit_ , what the hell was that?"

Sam shushed him with a hand on his shoulder, her attention on Cam and Teal'c. Teal'c had taken Cam's machine gun and aimed a zat at his head. Daniel had been similarly disarmed, and the other two jaffa were covering him, Sam, and Nate.

"Give me a reason I should not kill you where you stand." Teal'c said,

"Because you're a good man." Cam tried.

Wrong answer. He tried again. "Because, somewhere, deep down, you realize we're supposed to be on the same side."

Sam rolled her eyes. What was that Cam had said about knowing which button to push? "Because we can offer you the freedom of your people." She said.

Cam looked at her like she was betting the house on a pair of nines. "Really?"

Sam gestured around them. "This is Ba'al's failsafe. It has to be. I think this whole place is his time machine."

The others took in their surroundings, as Teal'c lowered his zat and walked deeper into the room. A massive central column rose in the centre of the cavern, clearly technological, and, unless Sam missed her guess, Ancient in design. Walkways fanned out from the central pillar in three directions, one ending in the stargate, where they stood, one in a ring platform, and the third had a control console. Sam headed for that one, Nate following close behind, keeping a hand on his weapon and watching the jaffa warily.

"Teal'c, you have to understand, in the timeline we just came from, the Goa'uld are defeated and the Jaffa are free. Now, Ba'al used a machine to go back in time and change all of that. He made you his First Prime and Qetesh his queen so he could control you." Daniel explained.

"This is the secret for which Ba'al was murdered." Teal'c told them.

"So that's why you think Qetesh is on her way here? She wants to use this device for herself." Cam said.

"That cannot be allowed to happen." Teal'c said.

"See? We agree about _everything_!" Cam said.

"Teal'c, if you let us use this device, we can return history to the way it was meant to be." Sam said. _Please._

"The Goa'uld will be gone?" Teal'c asked, and Sam nodded. "My people will be free?"

"You have our word." Daniel said.

Teal'c looked at each of them, judging them. "Let it be done."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief and rushed to study the control console in earnest. "It'll just take me a few minutes to figure out exactly how it works."

"That may be all the time we have. By my reckoning, Qetesh will be here at any moment." Teal'c said.

"Well, you heard the man." Sam heard the others taking positions behind her.

"What do I do?" Nate asked Cam.

"See that platform? The enemy will come from there. Be ready to fire. We have to cover Sam until she can get the time machine working."

Sam looked up as she activated a representation of a field of stars above them. "There must be satellites orbiting every one of these stars. There's hundreds of them, each sending real-time telemetry back to this computer through sub-space."

"Exactly how does that add up to a time machine?" Cam asked.

"They're looking for something specific." She used the globe interface to find them an example. An image of a sun appeared in front of them.

"Solar flares." Daniel said.

"Exactly. Until now, other than Ancient technology, the only way we know of travelling backward and forward through time is to pass through a wormhole as it intersects the magnetic field of a solar flare. Now with enough satellites and enough computing –"

Cam cut her off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's brilliant. Which button do we press?"

"Yeah, I think it's a little more complicated than that." Daniel said, hackles raising in Sam's defence. She gave him a brief, fond smile.

"Actually, not much. We just need to choose a time and place sometime before Ba'al can put his plan into motion."

The rings suddenly activated, falling down to the platform to deposit incoming hostiles. Sam's eyes danced over the information in front of her, looking for a flare that would take them to a time before Ba'al's arrival in 1939. Their only hope was to get there first, and stop him from downing the Achilles.

"Sam!" Cam said urgently.

"Well, if you want to go back to the Cretaceous period, we can go right now, otherwise we have to wait for a flare capable of sending us back to a time and place that's a little more useful."

Cam, Daniel, Nate and the jaffa took up defensive positions behind her, and began firing on Qetesh's jaffa as the rings deposited them on the platform. There were pauses between bouts, as the rings could only transport a small number, and at first her friends and Teal'c's jaffa had the upper hand, overwhelming each new group of jaffa within seconds of their arrival.

Their ammunition wouldn't last forever, though. She heard the telltale click-click-click as Daniel ran out of bullets.

"Sam!" Daniel yelled.

She tossed him her own side-arm, and he resumed firing. A quick glance at Nate told her the agent was picking his shots, and so hadn't run out of bullet yet himself – he probably had some training as a sharp shooter. Still, they couldn't do this much longer –

Wait.

"I've found one but you're not going to like it." She yelled.

"Why not?" Cam yelled back.

"It'll send us back to 1929."

"That's ten years too soon!"

"Well, it'll have to do, because I'm just about out of bullets –" Daniel's shout was abruptly cut off with the sound of a staff blast, and Sam spun and saw with horror that he'd been hit. He fell from the walkway, as if in slow motion, dropping into the chasm below.

She exchanged a horrified look with Nate, and turned urgently back to the control console, setting the time machine to use the solar flare she'd found. The sounds of battle raged on continuously behind her. They'd lost their advantage. Nate stood directly behind her now, covering her as he fired.

"Once I dial the Stargate, we'll have less than twenty seconds to get through!" She yelled.

"Dial it up and get your asses down here!" Cam replied.

She set the gate dialling, and spun back around just in time to see Nate take a staff blast to the chest. He fell backwards into her, and she let him drop down with her hands under his arms.

"Nate!" In a handful of seconds, he was gone, his eyes riveted on her face.

"Carter!" Cam yelled from the stargate platform.

"Go!" She screamed back at him as the stargate blossomed to life. She scrambled to follow, extricating herself from beneath Nate Harrison's lifeless body. She ran. Teal'c fell to a barrage of staff blasts as she reached him. The distance between the central platform and the gate had never looked so far.

She saw Cam make it through the gate, and then felt a sickening impact in her back, that rattled her bones and sent her to her knees. She was hit.

The world went white.


	9. Chapter 9 - Restoration

**Chapter 9 – Restoration**

 _Author's note: This is the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, it means a lot to me to hear from you guys. I don't have any immediate plans to do an 'Our Legacy 4', as I want to work on something different now, but I've tried to leave that possibility open, as I think there is still a lot more of this story I could tell. Watch this space, I guess! TTFN  
_

* * *

"What noise does a tractor make? Brum brum brum brum!" Sam rolled the tractor toy forwards with a push, and Beth squealed with laughter. The fifteen month-old little girl took hold of the red plastic tractor herself and pushed it back towards Sam, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her.

"Brum brum brum brum!" Sam repeated enthusiastically as the tractor rolled back towards her, and Beth laughed delightedly again, clapping her little hands.

Sam grinned fondly at her daughter, thrilled at the simple pleasure of being able to make her daughter laugh.

"She doesn't know how to make tractor noises. She does a pretty good 'dog', though." Jack commented from the sofa, where he sat admiring the latest ultrasound scan picture they'd gotten earlier that morning.

"Beth? What noise does a dog make?" Sam tried.

Beth just laughed at her again, and crawled forward to take the tractor back. Sam raised an eyebrow at Jack.

"She'll do it if you show her a picture of a dog. Or an actual dog in the park." Jack said. "Oh wait, I forgot, try this: Beth, what does a _stargate_ do?" He asked, his arms in a big circle.

"Woo-oosh!" Beth said, pushing her hands forward away from her chest dramatically like the unstable vortex of an opening wormhole, and then waving her arms in the air.

"Good girl!" Jack exclaimed, as Sam fell about laughing.

"Jack, you can't teach her that, what if we have to leave her at daycare at some point?" Sam protested with a grin.

"Oh, pshaw. Like anyone at a daycare would ever ask her what a stargate was. Besides, a 'woosh' noise and hand gestures are hardly going to blow the lid off the stargate program."

"I suppose." Sam chuckled.

"Hey, are we sure it's a boy?" Jack asked, turning the picture he was studying sideways.

"Unless we've screwed up the timeline at some point – yes." Sam said, reaching forward to rescue a sock that was escaping from Beth's foot as she played.

"Hmm." Jack said, squinting at the picture suspiciously.

"Relax, Jack, the doctor said it was a boy."

Sam grabbed hold of an animal farm picture book, turning it to the dog page. "Beth, look. What noise does a dog make?"

"Ruff ruff!" Beth said, and then looked up at Jack expectantly.

"Yeah!" He cheered, clapping in an exaggerated fashion. Beth clapped too, and then got to her wobbly feet, rushing at Jack and grabbing onto his knees. "Hey kiddo, you want up?"

"No!"

"You want to play some more?"

"No!"

"What _do_ you want?"

"No!"

"I think 'no' is code for 'I want to be tickled'." Jack said to Sam in a stage whisper, and then tickled Beth's middle, reducing her to a giggling heap on the floor.

Sam watched them with a smile. Jack was great with Beth, as she'd always known he would be. She couldn't help but be a little jealous of their bond – having been absent for most of Beth's life and only recently reunited with her, Sam felt like she was still just getting to know her daughter.

Sam's cell started ringing, and Jack reached over to grab it to save Sam from having to get up off the floor.

"It's Mitchell." He said, tossing her the phone, which she caught one-handed.

"Hey Cam." Sam said as she answered.

"Hey. Listen, I need you and General O'Neill to come to the SGC." Cam said.

"Both of us? Now?"

"Yeah, now. I already called Daniel, you can drop Beth off with Vala on your way, she's expecting you."

"What's going on?" Jack asked, with an armful of toddler.

"We have to go to the SGC." She told him, making him frown. "What's this about?" She asked Cam.

"I'll explain when you get here. Don't worry, it's not an emergency or anything, it's just … big."

"Bad?"

"Uhh … let's just say it _was_ bad, but we've already fixed it."

"Are you _trying_ to be cryptic?"

"Just get down here. I'll explain everything."

"Alright. We're on our way."

"What's going on?" Jack asked as she ended the call.

"No idea."

* * *

"Colonel? Would you mind filling us in?" General Landry asked as Colonel Mitchell started handing out SGC file folders to him, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel, seated around the briefing room table.

"Yes sir." Cameron said, and lifted a much-aged cardboard folder which had been at the bottom of the pile of files. "This was delivered to me by a special courier early this morning. The files I've just given you contain full copies of it."

Sam opened the file, and frowned as she recognised Cam's handwriting. "Did you write this?"

"Yes and no." He said, drawing confused looks from all present. "It's a letter, a very, very long letter, apparently written by me in the year 1929, with a short addendum added in 1940."

"You're older than you look." Jack quipped. "What's your secret? Lotion?"

"Obviously it wasn't actually _me_ that wrote it, but an alternate version of me that travelled back in time."

"Obviously." Daniel said dryly.

"I suggest you all just read the letter. It pertains to that threat Ba'al made about a failsafe device."

Suddenly serious and very interested, as they had all been concerned about Ba'al's cryptic threats at the extraction ceremony a few days earlier, the assembled group turned to their files.

"He changed the timeline?" Daniel – the fastest reader among them – exclaimed before Sam had finished reading about the parts of the extraction ceremony she remembered.

"What?" Jack looked up sharply.

"It's ok, we fixed it." Mitchell assured them. "Think of this like the video message you guys left after you went back in time to Ancient Egypt."

"Are you saying we have already travelled back in time to correct the alterations Ba'al attempted to make to the past?" Teal'c asked.

"Well, technically _you_ didn't, it was just me, Daniel and Carter. Just keep reading."

Sam turned her attention back to the letter. She drew in a sharp breath and reached for Jack's hand under the table when she read about his death at Ba'al's hand. That it had happened only scant moments after the timeline diverged from the one they had experienced, was terrifying. If Jack had approached Ba'al for any reason at the extraction ceremony, it could still have happened, failsafe device or no failsafe device. Jack squeezed her hand back, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand soothingly.

She read on, about how she, Daniel and Cameron had been protected by the timeline change by the stargate's wormhole, and their subsequent arrival on the Achilles at the North Pole. She read about Daniel's lost leg – and about how she'd lost the baby. She rubbed a hand over her belly, and met Jack's eye. It seemed they'd had yet another close call with fate.

She read about their subsequent year of exile. This version of Cameron apparently had relatively few details about the lives she and Daniel had led, due to the enforced separation, but he included what little he had known. She heard Jack harrumph grumpily, and assumed he'd caught up to the part about an NID agent who'd helped them, in part – the alternate Cameron Mitchell speculated – due to the feelings the agent had developed for her. Or possibly he was reading about how Rodney McKay had been her ex-boyfriend. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Across the table, Daniel cursed in a language Sam didn't recognise, further along in the text than she was.

She read about the arrival of the al'kesh, how they'd finally been invited back into the fold to help, and the subsequent race to the stargate. She read about how Teal'c had revealed that Ba'al had taken Qetesh as his queen, and understood Daniel's earlier outburst. She glanced up – he'd finished reading now, and was staring over her shoulder, at the stargate out of the briefing room window.

She read about Ba'al's failsafe device. A time machine, with which Ba'al had travelled back to 1939 with the intention of destroying the stargate to prevent the stargate program from ever existing. Instead, due to the actions of Cameron Mitchell's own grandfather, he'd only succeeded in stranding the ship in the Arctic, thus allowing herself, Daniel and Cameron to exit the stargate alive seventy years later.

She read about how she'd used the time machine to dial the stargate to Earth, to the year 1929, and about how first Daniel, then Nate, then Teal'c, and finally herself, had all been killed in the effort. Cameron had made it through, and found himself alone, ten years too early.

The addendum, written in1940, confirmed in a vernacular not entirely like the Cameron Mitchell she knew, that ten years later he had succeeded in stowing away aboard the Achilles. With his grandfather's help, he ambushed Ba'al as the goa'uld came through the stargate and thwarted the attack on the ship. He saw the stargate safely delivered to the USA, and swore his grandfather to secrecy.

The timeline was restored.

"Special courier, you say." Jack said offhandedly, as he set the file down.

"I – that is, the alternate me who did all of this – must have found a bank or solicitor's office or some other organisation, one that I knew would last the intervening years, and made arrangements to have this delivered to me on this date."

"You don't know who was keeping it for you?" Landry asked.

Mitchell shook his head. "No sir."

"We have to check out this gate address." Sam said, indicating the address of the planet with the time machine. "If any of Ba'al's forces are still in control of the failsafe device …"

"They could still use it, if they realise the plan failed." Teal'c finished.

"A failsafe for the failsafe?" Jack said sceptically.

"I wouldn't want to underestimate the cunning or paranoia of _any_ Ba'al." Landry said, standing, Sam and Mitchell getting to their feet too as per protocol. "Let's dial it up."

"I'll go order up a MALP." Mitchell said, heading for the stairs down to the control room. Landry, Daniel and Teal'c followed.

Sam sat back down next to Jack, folding her hands over her file folder.

"If the area's clear, I want to go with them." Sam said to Jack.

"Over my dead body."

Sam flinched, remembering Cam's description of how she had literally knelt over Jack's dead body on the Tok'ra homeworld.

"Sorry, poor choice of words." Jack apologised with a wince. "But if you think I'm letting you through that gate again, you're out of your mind."

"If the guys secure the area first –"

"No."

"Jack! They're not going to know what they're looking at. Cam said himself in his letter that _I'm_ the one who figured out how the time machine worked. I need to have a look at it to make sure it's not already set to cause another alteration."

"As I understood it, all that thing does is dial the gate at a specific moment in history. It still needs someone to go through the gate for any changes to be made to the timeline."

"As far as we know." Sam said.

"Still. I wasn't happy about you going through the stargate for the extraction ceremony. That was friendly territory, and look what happened there!"

"Technically if I hadn't gone to the extraction ceremony, I wouldn't have been protected from the timeline changes while I was in the wormhole, and would have ended up as a dead astronaut." Sam pointed out.

" _Carter_."

"It's not your decision, anyway. You're retired, remember?"

"Are you seriously willing to put the baby at risk again, when another brainiac could go in your place?"

Sam glared at him.

"You know I'm right." He said.

She huffed.

"Sam."

"Fine." She snapped. "But you're not going either."

"Who said I wanted to go?"

"Oh please, it's another time machine, and _Ba'al's_ time machine to boot. You're practically itching to go."

"I could take some pictures for you. A video, even."

"If you think I'm letting you near a _time machine_ without me, you're out of your mind." She said with a smirk, echoing his earlier words. "I remember what you did with that puddle jumper."

"I wouldn't use it to go to 2034." Jack protested. "And anyway, it sounds like I couldn't even if I wanted to, if it took _you_ to figure out how to make it work."

"Either we both go, or we both stay." Sam insisted, knowing she wasn't going anyway, so he wouldn't either.

"Last I checked, I was in command of this base and who steps through that gate." Landry said, having reappeared at the top of the stairs, making them both jump. "And I say, neither of you are going anywhere."

* * *

Sam entered the sleek office building and strode across the lobby, her low heels echoing on the marble floor.

"Hi, I have an appointment with Agent Barrett?" She addressed the twenty-something redhead at the reception desk.

"Sam!" Malcolm Barrett called to her from the elevator he was exiting.

She smiled and walked over to meet him halfway.

"Wow, look at you. Pregnancy suits you." Barrett said with a grin. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking." Sam said, smiling back, and following him into the elevator. "And you?"

"Can't complain." He glanced at her belly and grinned at her again. "When are you due?"

"Not for a few months yet." Sam said. "I dread to think how big the kid's going to be by then, if he's this size already."

"I'm sure you'll still carry it beautifully." Malcolm said, and Sam rolled her eyes at him with a grin.

"Oh, hush. Flattery will get you nowhere." The elevator stopped, and Sam followed him into his office across the corridor. Barrett shut the door behind them, and Sam sat down in a chair opposite his desk. Barrett sat down at the desk and looked at her expectantly.

"So, is this a social call, or …?"

"Officially, I'm here because General Landry ordered me to go over all of the intelligence you collected pertaining to the Ba'al clones your team were tracking here on Earth."

"And unofficially, you're wondering if Agent Harrison might be available for a quick chat?"

"We're all a little curious." She admitted with a rueful smile.

"I feel like I ought to be worried for my job." Barrett said with a shake of his head and a rueful grin. "What if you all decide you like him better than me?"

"Maybe the flattery was a good strategy after all." Sam teased. "In all seriousness though, Colonel Mitchell, General Landry and General O'Neill all asked me to pass on their thanks to Agent Harrison while I was here."

"But he didn't do anything."

"Not in this timeline, maybe. But in the grand scheme of things …"

"Right. Well, you're in luck, I happen to know he is around today. I'll ask him to stop in and see you at some point before you leave."

"Thanks, Malcolm."

"Is there any sign of Ba'al's forces on Praxyon?"

"None. It looks like they all cleared out as soon as they realised Ba'al's attempt at altering the timeline had failed. Without their benefactor to lead and protect them, they all either went into hiding or switched sides and joined the Free Jaffa."

"So the time machine is secure? Have you had the chance to get a good look at it?"

Sam wrinkled her nose. "Landry won't let me through the gate." She admitted. "Dr Lee is on Praxyon studying it instead. He sends me back reports and diagnostics and pictures, but …"

"Not the same?" Barrett guessed.

"Nope. Still, at least it means I'm home by 1720 every day. I'm enjoying the extra time with Beth."

"I'll bet." Barrett said, smiling. He stood. "I'll go see about getting you that intel and a workstation."

"Thanks."

* * *

"Knock knock."

Sam looked up to see an unfamiliar face poking in the door of the office she'd commandeered.

"Hi …?" She said.

"I'm Agent Nate Harrison." He came into the room, walking forward with lanky strides and extending his hand in greeting.

"Agent Harrison! Hi, I'm Colonel Samantha Carter." Sam said, standing and shaking his hand.

"Agent Barrett said you wanted a word?" He said. "I gotta admit, I was kind of curious to meet you myself."

"You saw the report about Ba'al's interference with the timeline?" Sam asked. A copy had been provided to the NID, but she wasn't sure how widely it had been circulated.

"I saw Colonel Mitchell's whole letter." Harrison said. "It made for quite a read."

"No kidding." Sam said. "What did you make of it?"

"It's … it's very strange, reading about things you did in an alternate timeline. Almost like someone walking over your grave."

"'There, but for the grace of God, go I.'" Sam quoted with a sympathetic grin. "It's not the first time something like this has happened to me, but the feeling doesn't lessen any." Sam told him.

"So I gather you and I knew each other quite well in that other timeline." Harrison said.

"Apparently so." Sam nodded, looking down at her hands.

"I guess you're pretty used to weird stuff like this though, given your long career on SG-1." He said with a conspiratorial grin. She grinned back.

"Doesn't even break the top five." She admitted.

" _Man_ …" He whistled. "I gotta say, I don't envy your job."

"Really?" She asked, a little surprised.

"Don't get me wrong, some of it sounds amazing, and I'd love to get to play the hero more often, but it's gotta mess with your head sometimes."

Sam chuckled. "You have no idea."

"That said, if you wanted to talk to me to recruit me or something …" he said, eyes twinkling. Sam grinned. She could see why the two of them had gotten along so well in the other timeline. He was very charming, and sort of reminded her of Cam.

"Actually I just wanted to thank you. I know it wasn't technically _you_ who helped us in the altered timeline, but still, it's possible that without your help we may never have succeeded in fixing it. Not to mention that it sounds like you did a lot to help me, personally."

"Well, ah, don't mention it." Harrison said. "Glad I could help."

"And it's not just me saying that." Sam said. "SG-1, General Landry and General O'Neill asked me to pass on their thanks as well. We owe you one."

"Considering you guys just saved the whole world, with me along with it, I'd say we're even." Harrison said with a bemused grin.

"Fair enough." Sam said.

Harrison smiled at her, nodded, and stood.

"See you around, Colonel."

She watched him walk back to the open office door, then called after him.

"Hey." He turned back and looked at her expectantly. "Take care of yourself, McFly." She grinned.

He grinned back. "You too, Sam."

* * *

 _Eight years later …_

Sam drummed her fingers on the wheel, waiting at red lights.

"I can too!" Her seven-year old son bleated from the backseat.

"No you can't! You're too little!" Beth argued.

"Uh uh! Dad said I could."

" _Mom_!" Beth complained, and Sam sighed.

"Beth, if your Dad said Jake can go with you this year, then he can."

"But _Mom_!"

"Beth, enough." Sam said, as the lights turned green. She pressed her foot on the gas to pull away, but rather than pulling forward smoothly, the car shuddered and jerked, and behind her Beth squealed.

"Oh, no." Sam said as the car stalled, and refused to start again. She dropped her head back against the headrest, and looked at her children in the rear view mirror. "Ok, everyone out."

"What's wrong with the car?" Jake asked plaintively.

"I don't know yet, honey. Go stand on the sidewalk with your sister while I take a look."

She popped the hood, and a cloud of steam escaped.

"Is it on fire?" Beth asked.

"No, it's just steam." Sam said, wafting it away and peering in.

"There's a garage over there, Mom." Beth said, and Sam looked at her daughter and then followed her pointed finger.

A faded blue sign read _'Hank's Garage'._

"Good spot, sweetie." Sam said, and closed the hood again. She held out a hand to each of her kids.

"Come on, let's go see if anyone's in."


End file.
